


He Used to Rule the World

by Smul_shinya



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Touch Chancellor Ardyn Izunia, Body Horror, Chains, Collars, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Hurt/Comfort, IgNoct, Ignoct Week, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Noctis Whump, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Physical Abuse, Poor Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, Promptis - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Slavery, Slow Burn, Torture, Whump, drautos is a dick, end me, fluff if you squint, lunyx, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-09-02 08:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 51,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16783027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smul_shinya/pseuds/Smul_shinya
Summary: Noctis wants to get stronger by any means necessary but finds himself vulnerable to his enemies.His desire for strength leads him to become the very enemy he had hoped to defeat and a puppet for one Ardyn Izunia





	1. So it Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hey~~ Alright this is my first fic. No beta. No hate. I just wanted to write something flowery and dramatic for the boys I love. Thank you~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIYA! So this is my first fic! I just rewrote part of the first chapter to make it read better! I am super proud and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do~ 
> 
> No Beta! No Hate! Just writing something for myself!   
> If you enjoy it~ leave a kudo or comment! <3

“Your Highness?” The voice floated across the large open space, thin eyebrows raised as they stared at the clump of dark hair that was slumped over on the kitchen counter. Noctis, the owner of the feathery blue-grey locks, glanced up from where he sat, head propped up lazily with one arm, his free hand dragged itself over the lines of the report without much interest.

  
“mm?” He mumbled with a vague notion of interest, not even raising his eyes to look at the man who had disturbed his procrastinating. The advisor chuckled softly, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand, watching the prince with adoration. 

  
“You’ve been on the same page for nearly ten minutes. Perhaps I should reinstate your Business tutor? Or is it simple reading that is causing you to pause?” Ignis hummed over his mug of coffee, swishing the steaming contents. His eyes, like leaves of wheatgrass in the summer, were vaguely amused. Hair that bristled with the same brittle flush of sunburnt grass. Brown and blonde and soft like silk. It was set in spikes with hairspray that he’d mistakenly borrowed from Noctis--or so he told anyone who commented on the strange hair-do. 

  
The young prince of Lucis flinched at the idea of seeing those tutors again. He saw the way they looked at him. Some were old enough to have taught his father and they had always regarded him with disdain. Although no one ever had the balls to say it to his face, he was no fool. The citadel had ears and for those quiet enough, you could always find out what you wanted to know.   
A vague memory bubbled to life, remembering a day when he was sitting in one of the citadel's gardens, feeling the warmth of the sunlamps that kept the flora lush and brilliant. Some of the tutors walked by, laughing to themselves like they were the only ones in the citadel. They were fools.

“Like you took the king and kicked the dignity out of him.” He heard one of them say. He remembered the stone ball that had formed in his stomach instantly. Remembered how he had scared off the birds that had fluttered near his still frame as he ran off. He had hidden for a full day--sent the citadel into a panic. Even when Cor found him and dragged him back to his angry father he refused to admit why he had hidden away in the first place.

No. He preferred Ignis’ quiet tutelage. He preferred public school. Honestly, he preferred anything to escape the demeaning looks that those men and women wore. Their fake smiles and mocking encouragement. 

  
“What good is rereading all these reports? They’re at least several days old, which means that dad already read them and signed them.” Ignis quirked his lips into a small frown, looking down at the dates. Had he grabbed the wrong ones by accident? He looked over at Noctis, meeting annoyed blues. His lip quirked up. 

  
“I must have made a mistake,” Ignis stated softly, reaching out to collect the reports. "I should have noticed sooner."

  
“You don't make mistakes” He muttered, eyes narrowing in rage, thick eyelashes fluttered over galaxies. “ It's probably the council. They think I don't care about my duties because I wanted to move out of the citadel. I’m not so callous to ignore my duties!” Noctis huffed, tugging at a long strand of hair near the side of his face. “But how am I supposed to care when all of this is irrelevant. Whether I agree or disagree, the decisions have already been made.”

  
Ignis nodded gently, reaching over to gently entangle their fingers. Noctis was right to be mad, but anger rarely solved things as he often reminded Gladio. He pressed his thumb in soothing circles against the back of Noct's hand as the crown prince flopped against the reports scattered on the kitchen counter, sending several of the sheets fluttering to the floor.

  
“Come now Noct… I'm sure that the council simply compiled the wrong reports. It was simply an error in one of your father’s attendants. We are all humans, and mistakes happen." Noctis quirked his brow up in disbelief, cheeks slightly puffed out in irritation. It was cute enough that Ignis found his lips twitching up in a smile. "I will look into it and see that it is quickly resolved.” He amended, relieved when Noctis raised his head ever so slightly so that only his eyes were peeking out from under his soft raven feather bangs. He sighed so deeply that as the breath exhaled he seemed to shrink.

  
“No… It’s been a while since I visited the citadel. I should probably sort this out myself.” He muttered, turning away in a childish pout that had never changed through all the years he'd been by Noctis' side. Seeing Noctis through everything. Through the worst life had to offer and through the mundane. He knew Noctis’ face better than his own and even with the childish pout, his heart swelled with endearment. He loved Noctis more than even his elaborate vocabulary could explain. More than he could ever hope to explain to the prince with words nor actions, but he was proud to dedicate his life to doing just that. Whatever it took to make him smile.

  
“Noctis, while I am not your maid nor your personal chef, I am your advisor and this seems like one of the few things that actually fall into my purview.” Ignis teased gently, setting his coffee down on the king's knight coaster that Noctis had insisted on buying earlier that month. He may tease the soon-to-be king, but Ignis would gladly slip into whatever role helped Noctis. If it meant that he had to expand his cooking expertise to better handle the picky prince, then he was happy to do so. Noctis was his world and although he had been pushed into this role at the young age of six, he never once regretted it. He was able to assist the king of kings, the jewel of the crown city—not to mention the most stubborn, childish, bratty, selfish, sweet, shy boy that he could have possibly imagined. Even Gladio had to admit, with his fairy tale looks and heritage, Noctis could easily slip inside the pages of a novel and find peace within the pages. He would make his stamp in the history books, yet Ignis was happy to simply stand quietly by his side.

  
But peace was never Noctis’ destiny and Ignis knew that as well. He didn't know when fate would knock them out of their peaceful daily routine, but he knew that the day was fast approaching when the least of their worries would be school exams and missing reports. He would cherish these days for as long as he could. He smiled, letting go of Noct’s hand to run through the shower-damp mop of hair he refused to get trimmed.

he could tell from Noctis's stubborn silence that he wasn't too pleased by Ignis's offer. He truly did hate asking for help in any form or fashion. 

“You are not a burden for relying on me." He swore earnestly, patting the cow-lick on the crown of Noctis's head. "Honestly, this seems more in lines with my duty as a king’s advisor than tracking you and Mr. Argentum down.” Noctis hummed out a muffled response, his anger temporarily sidetracked as Ignis massaged his scalp, enjoying the brief moment of calm.

  
“I need to go to the citadel anyways…” He finally murmured after a few quiet minutes. Ignis smiled, smoothing out a few more wayward clumps in a futile attempt at making the boy look more regal. But regality was never Noct’s style.

  
“Well then, shall we go together?” Ignis rested his chin on the backs of his hands, watching Noctis squirm slightly with an amused smile. Noctis' cheeks alway flushed an adorable pink whenever Ignis suggested they do something together. He didn't engage in the taunting of the other members of Noctis's retinue, but teasing the prince like this, in private, it was something that brought him a private joy. The prince sat up finally, yawning widely before nodding.

“Fine.” He consented, watching with a raised eyebrow as Ignis transferred his coffee into a portable thermos. When he caught the skeptical look on Noct’s face he merely raised an eyebrow in return.

  
“Just because we are going to the citadel does not mean I will be wasting my perfectly good roast.” He huffed, walking off to collect his things. Noctis laughed breathily, slipping off the stool and shuffling into his room to at least attempt to look like the crown prince he was supposed to be growing into. He walked into his bathroom, gazing at himself. He tried for a smile but couldn’t manage it as he stripped out of his soft cotton pajamas and into the constricting black pleated shirt. Ignis lightly knocked on the door, sighing as he saw Noctis fluff his hair and straighten his collar. He was nervous.

  
“Something on your mind, Noct?”

  
“It’s nothing.” Noctis was quick to dismiss his concerns, eyes distant. Ignis sighed, eyes still searching his charge.

  
“You know… as a future king, perhaps you should work on being a better liar.” Ignis smirked and Noctis flashed him his finger before Ignis held up one of Noctis’ suit jackets Noctis shrugged himself into it, hating how it fit his body like a glove. Like a coffin built to his measurements, trapping him in his fate.

  
“If I wanted your advice—“

  
“I am your advisor. Giving advice is my sole purpose.” Ignis's eyes were bright with mirth, and even though Noctis wanted to snap back, the soft smile on Ignis's lips stopped him. He rolled his eyes playfully, as he tugged on his pants and shoved his advisor. It was like pushing a steel pole, but Ignis let Noctis have his fun. The advisor chuckled softly as the two of them left the apartment. 


	2. Cracks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis begins to bow under the pressure

Pulling up the citadel, Noctis could feel himself forcing his breaths to remain even, to remain calm. He belonged here. He was the crown prince. He tried to remind himself of these things but they all seemed to fall flat in his mind. He was an embarrassment to everyone. He knew that. He couldn’t master the basics of Lucian magic despite supposedly having unlimited access to the crystal and its resources. Some King of light he turned out to be. Even though the doctors assured him it was because of his injuries, even though no one had ever said something to him directly—he knew.

He climbed up the stairs as Ignis followed at a clipped pace.

“Noctis. Something is clearly on your mind.” He murmured, glancing around the marble steps. Everyone knew the walls of the citadel had ears.

“Not right now,” Noctis muttered back as he entered the citadel. The guards, kingsglaive and crownsguard milled about, eyeing their crown prince. They tilted their heads in shows of forced respect. The few citizens allowed in the citadel bowed when they saw him. Noctis wondered which of the groups was correct. He continued past them, finding the elevator quickly. He looked back and saw that Ignis had faltered in the main foyer. He watched his advisor, quirking his lips in a smirk as the bespectacled man glared at the guards.

The elevator attendant asked him his destination after he bowed his head in respect. “Throne room,” Noctis responded, clearing the expression of adoration from his lips just as quickly as it had blossomed. He waved quickly as the doors closed, separating him from his comfort. Alone, he rose through the citadel. He felt the sticky warmth of sweat coat the back of his neck and warm his underarms. Stress. Did he put on deodorant? Could the attendant smell his anxiety? He shifted, tugging on his shirt and fixing his collar. His movements were child-like, antsy.

“Your Highness…?” Noctis jerked out of his own head, looking at the opened doors. How long had they been open?

“U-um… thank you.” He nodded, hopping off the elevator and walking with his head held high. He couldn’t help the tremor in his hand or how he couldn’t find any moisture in his mouth. He stopped in the gathering room, staring at the closed doors. His father would be in his office, or one of the many council rooms. But somehow, Noctis always found his wayward feet drawn to the imposing room. The guards stationed outside of it watched him. Familiar eyes wandered from the haze to stare at Noctis.

“Prince Noctis?” Nyx called, recalling the prince from his younger days. He smiled hesitantly, a prepared expression. Noctis flinched again, before recognizing Nyx.

“Hello… Nick?”

“Very funny,” Nyx smirked, trying to keep from rolling his eyes. Noctis was smiling hesitantly, as if afraid to tease the famed hero. Nyx didn’t mind. There may have been a time when he hated the little prince, but his anger had faded with time. Noctis was just an awkward teenager with a heavy destiny on his scrawny shoulders.

“His majesty is in his office if that is who you are here for.”

“Right… Um, do you think I can go in?” Nyx raised his brow, glancing at the closed doors.

“You do recall you are the prince, correct? You may go anywhere you desire.” Noctis nodded, staring at his feet. Nyx frowned. Cowed so easily. He was a stubborn, obnoxious kid. Not skittish and nervous like this—not normally. Nyx pushed opened the door, watching as Noctis strode in. He hesitated—wanting to follow the child prince in and question him. But he stopped, stayed. He wasn’t the prince’s friend. He reached into his jacket pocket and tugged out his smartphone, texting Libertus.

N.U. : Hey, prince is wandering about

L.B. : k and?

N.U. : is his shield near u?

L.B. : Training rm

L.B. : y?

N.U. : Send him up 2 throne rm

L.B. : K

L.B. : dinner? Crowe’s in

L.B. : ur paying Nyx rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer the last message, laughing quietly as he tossed one more glance at the door.

~ ~ ~

Noctis approached the Dias quietly, glancing back at the solid doors, waiting for the thump that would signal them shut. His eyes skirted the windows that drowned the grand room in light, yet he felt no warmth. Though no one was there, he still stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the throne, pacing and shuffling before some invisible judge.

“Was it a mistake?” He finally called at the throne, before rubbing the back of his head. “You’re not supposed to think I’m weak! You’re supposed to believe in me, father!” He shouted at the throne.

That’s where his father had always been. Sitting in that throne, sitting in meetings. Never with his lone son. Noctis kicked at the polished floor, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He didn’t have outbursts like this. At least… he ensured no one knew about them. Sometimes it was in the arcade, screaming at the screens. Sometimes it was fishing. Sometimes… he just had to talk. To get the fears out of his chest for just a few moments.

“I’m trying to be worthy of taking your place… I’m trying, but if you aren’t going to LET me, then what the hell was this all for? The tutors, the training— am I just some figurehead?” He groaned, rubbing at his face. Of course, he was just a pawn… a powerful pawn, but a pawn all the same. His father had millions of people to take care of, and Noctis was just another one of them. Like a brightly colored fish in the wide open depths. He was too lost in his head to hear the door open, but even his anxieties couldn’t distract him from the loud footfall.

“Got a tracking chip in my phone or something?” Noctis snapped, anger misdirected at his shield. “Can’t be out of Iggy’s sight for what… ten minutes?”

“Alright, let’s try that again.” Gladio narrowed his amber eyes, disliking immediately situation he’d been dropped into. Libertus had told him nothing but that Noctis had been in the throne room and needed him, so he ran through the citadel. Only to find Prince charmless throwing a tantrum in an empty room. He crossed his muscular arms, sweat shining across his exposed skin as he quirked an eyebrow at the younger boy. Noctis didn’t flinch at his presence but did take a small step back.

“Nyx told me you were up here.” Gladio rumbled, looking around the room with the same skeptical expression he’d worn upon entering. “Yellin at chairs again.”

“Shut up.” Noctis’s shoulders fell and he shoved past Gladio on his way to the door. He stopped, back still facing his guardian. “How much did you hear.”

“Nothing.” Gladio rolled his neck, flexing his fingers. He didn’t have the chance to stretch after his work out. He was beginning to think this hadn’t been worth interrupting him.

“Good.” Noctis opened his mouth to ask Gladio… to ask him if he thought he was weak too. “I’ll see yah later.” Was all he said as he opened the door and scooted past Nyx.

~ ~ ~

Ignis found the young prince In his room. Sulking on his bed as he stared out the window. His advisor sighed softly, knocking despite already being in the room.

“Noct, may I come in?”

“I have a feeling you will anyway.”

“How astute.” Ignis shut the door behind him, walking over to the bed and pulling up the old desk chair. “Gladiolus told me you were in the throne room again.”

“Of course he did.”

“He is your shield. He was worried about you. As am I. Noctis, I can’t advise you on problems you withhold.” Noctis scoffed and ignored the crafted expression of judgment on Ignis’s lips. “You’ve been skittish for days now. Did something happen between you and Mr. Argentum? Or perhaps you’re upset about your father’s health—“

“Dad is fine!” Noctis snapped suddenly, eyes flying open as the words flew out of him. He stared at the tight expression Ignis wore before flopping onto his side, keeping his back to the man who knew him better than anyone else. “It has nothing to do with… that, anyway.”

“Well then, enlighten me.” Noctis kicked at the sheets of his bed, drummed his fingers on his arm, anything to avoid Ignis.

“… Did you figure out what the mix-up was?” Ignis sighed—the sigh that told Noctis that the conversation wasn’t over, but that he would continue the charade of normalcy.

“No, Noct, I did not manage to figure that out within the thirty minutes you traipsed about the citadel. However, I did speak with Captain Drautos and my uncle. His Majesty would love for you to stay for dinner.”

“Will he actually be there?” Bitterness singed the words, tainting the room with a sour aroma. Ignis knew that the hurt ran deep within Noctis. Worse than the scar that adorned his back were the wounds that adorned his heart. Even with his back facing him, Ignis could see the lines of tension that made the boy lie like a wooden plank—rigid and still.

“I was assured that his majesty would be attending his own dinner.”

“I’ve heard that before…” Noctis sighed and sat up finally, done sulking for the time being. “We came here to figure out why I got sent the wrong reports, and to get the right reports.”

“I still insist this is an errand I could have accomplished on my own.” Noctis felt a sting in his stomach. On his own. Was Noctis simply getting in the way, again? Ignis caught the tension’s return and frowned, making a mental note to himself. “But your assistance has been welcome.”

“what assistance,” Noctis muttered angrily, but he seemed to relax. Ignis smiled, watching some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. Ignis slowly paced over and sat down on the bed, feeling the worn and familiar covers. How many nights had he spent in here with Noctis? Sleepovers, and guarding him against the nightmares inside him.

“Rest for now. There is no point chasing after your father for the time being. You can catch up on the reports for now.” Ignis passed him up to date copies of the meetings and let out a breath when he saw Noctis relax further. “We will ask your father about everything when we see him this evening.”

“Fine.” Noctis snatched the reports and flopped back down. He began to run his eyes over the report, letting out a long deep yawn. Ignis chuckled and stood up.

“I will be back, Noct. If you need me I am merely a call away.”

“…sure specs…” Noctis mumbled, chewing on the cuticle of his thumb unconsciously. Ignis batted his hand away from his mouth before standing and walking out, closing the door quietly behind him. Nyx stood outside the door, respectful and quiet.

“Let me know if he leaves, but don’t try and stop him,” Ignis instructed before adjusting his glasses in a show of anxiety. “Thank you, Nyx.”

“Not like it’s my job or anything.” Nyx grinned as he squared his shoulders against the wall and quietly stared off.


	3. Drautos enters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do a slow burn but I dont write like that XD Im going from 0 - 100 REAL DAMN FAST YALLLL

“Your majesty?” Regis looked up, eyes gentle and warm as he stood at the window overlooking the city. Clarus stood in the corner of his office, watching the king with a fond smile that turned sharp at the presence of someone else. He eased upon seeing the familiar armor of the captain of the kingsglaive.

“Captain Drautos.” Regis beckoned in warmly, taking his cane and limping over to his high-backed armchairs. “Come in.” Drautos approaches respectfully, placing his fist to his heart and inclining his head slightly. He slowly takes a seat across from the king as Clarus stands behind Regis, hands crossed over his sword. Regis reaches out to pick up a cup of tea with a slight quiver in his hand. He took a sip before nodding his head at Drautos. “Would you like a cup, Captain?”

“I am alright, Your Majesty.” He held up his hand in refusal. “Actually, what I have to say is of the utmost importance.” Regis’s eyebrows knit in a concerned furrow. He leaned back, squaring his shoulders.

“Is it Niflhiem?”

“No, sir. It’s Prince Noctis.”

“Noctis?” Regis stated back, eyes widening in concern. Drautos hid his smirk. The king was an open book when it came to his love for his son. Alas, the duties of monarchy ensured Noctis never knew that.

“I hope it is not overstepping my duties, sir. However, I have information that Prince Noctis’ advisor is tampering with the prince’s mental health reports.” Regis stared at the man hard, eyes searching for deceit.

“Why on Eos would Ignis do that?” Regis asked. His trust in Ignis was as strong as his love for Noctis. He couldn’t fathom a reason for Ignis to lie to him.

“It would seem that his younger majesty has been dealing with his depression again. According to his doctors, it is specifically regarding his royal duties.” Regis stared at Drautos then dragged his fingers through his beard. Ignis lying about something as important as Noctis’ health seemed outlandish, but Ignis—misguidedly protecting Noctis?— that was something Regis could picture. Still, he refused to believe Titus out of hand. he trusted Noctis -- one of the few people he knew would give his life for his wayward son.

“… Your proof?”

“I have the original and tampered reports if you would like to investigate yourself.” Drautos offered out a thick manila folder which Clarus stepped forward to take. “As well as I.P. addresses and… your majesty, I am not blaming Sir Scientia. Merely suggesting that his affection for Noctis has blinded him.”

“… It’s possible.” Regis murmured finally, voice thick with emotion. Clarus handed the king the folder--satisfied that there was nothing out of the ordinary inside. “Ignis loves Noctis… he wants the best for him but as his advisor sometimes what’s best for Noctis and what’s best for the kingdom are two different things.” He massaged his face, flipping through the reports. He knew Noctis carried a heavy burden on his shoulders, but to have depression? That was different. Regis still vividly remembered the years of Noctis taking pills, the loss of weight, the loss of spark in his eyes. Each pill seemed to bury the Prince's personality deeper and deeper within his tiny frame.

“I can escort Sir Scientia up here if you’d like.” Drautos offered but the king waved away his request.

“No. There’s no need to make a scene about this. I will speak with Ignis privately. However…” Regis sighed, looking at the scores for Noctis’ depressive disorder. “… Perhaps it would be best to give Noctis some room to grow. Experience life as a teenager would. I know my time grows short, but I refuse to unduly burden Noctis when we know what his destiny foretells.” Clarus squeezed Regis’s shoulder, bowing his head. Drautos stared—his plan changed, but this would be good. “

Of course your highness. A very kind gesture. If you’d like I can inform Prince Noctis.” Regis hesitated, then looked down at the papers in his hands. Would his presence worsen things for his son? Was he the reason Noctis was so lonely? The weight of the world already rested on his shoulders, and while Regis would gladly die for his son, he too had a role to play. He was the king, and he was not arrogant enough to think that he was a perfect father. No... he wasn't close to a perfect father, but he did try. But perhaps he was trying too hard. Perhaps he needed to take a step back--allow Noctis to live as a teenager and not a prince. “… Yes. And um… cancel the dinner.” Regis stood up, gathering his cane before setting the folder down with a gentle thump on the glass coffee table. He lumbered over to his desk and sat down with a heavy sigh, his steely eyes lost somewhere between concern and regret. Clarus nodded at Drautos—a sign to leave and a thank you— which Drautos happily took to leave the oppressive atmosphere.

“Farewell Your majesty.” Drautos called before letting the door slam shut.

~ ~ ~

“Cancelled?” Noctis sat on his bed, the reports spread out around him, highlighted and decorated with sticky notes and suggestions. So the wayward prince actually gave a shit about the kingdom that he pranced around. Didn’t matter. He was useless. A figurehead. Still, the whiney tin of his voice tugged at something in Drautos’ cold chest. He dragged his gaze over the scar-free face of the prince, taking in the needle thin lips, pulled taut in a quiet repression of his pain. He was looking at the reports, looking out the window, looking at his thumb, looking at anything but Drautos. A child. The anger swathed the warm feeling in the captain. A child was supposed to rule this kingdom. '

“Yes. His Majesty said he was busy.” Drautos stated, curling his fingers in and out of fists.

“Oh.” Was the prince’s quiet response. Drautos slowly tried to ease the tension out of his shoulders, offered the kid a helpless smile. Pity. He filled his expression with pity.

“I… perhaps I shouldn’t be the one to inform you but… His Majesty has noticed you slacking on your duties—“

“I haven’t been slacking! Someone gave me the wrong reports!” Noctis snapped back with a voice full of venom and eyes darkened with anger. They shook with electricity. Untapped magical energy.

“An excuse. King’s don't make excuses.” Drautos snapped back, eyes narrowing on the sulking child. “His majesty as enough to worry about without you plaguing his mind. You’re supposed to be growing into a man worthy of running this kingdom and instead you remain a helpless child. Relying on your advisor like a butler.” He snapped back, eyes narrowed. Noctis was nothing but a weak soldier that Drautos could form into a living weapon. Noctis visibly flinched at the accusations, looking down at his hands as if they would hold the answers. Drautos had been right. These fears had been plaguing him for a while now. Noct’s pretty face looked up and the Captain imagined grinding it into the dirt. So much like Nyx.

“You may ignore my words if you’d like. You can even report me. But I thought you should know what the kingdom thinks of their crown prince. An embarrassment. A child. A weakling. You are half the man Regis was at your age. It’s time for you to change that.” Drautos turned to his heel, throwing one more calculated look of pity back at the trembling prince before grasping the handle. He made to open it but he heard the quiet sounds nonetheless.

“So what do I do…” Noctis murmured and when Drautos turned to look at him, he saw the sheen that glossed the crystalline eyes.

“You get stronger.”

“I train with Gladio every day!” He whined and that only sharpened the look of disappointment on Drautos’s face.

“Then perhaps he too thinks you’re too weak.”

“What—? Gladio wouldn't…”

“Wouldn’t what? Go easy on you? Ignore your messages? He’s going soft on you because he realized you’re weak.” Noctis sat like a statue, grasping his hands until the knuckles bled white.

“… Then you train me.” Noctis whispered, head bowed. “You train me. Teach me how to be strong!”

“The captain of the kingsglaive training the prince? I’m sure your father would approve… but I doubt you could handle it.”

“I can!” That drove the boy to his feet and Drautos’s crocodile grin spread.

“I’ll train you for a week. If you can handle it, I’ll consider making it official. Until then… lets keep this a secret. Lest you disappoint your father again.” His words found their mark and Noctis was too distracted to stop him from sweeping out of the room.


	4. Prompto Enters the Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to choose between promptis and ignoct.

Ignis had never seen Noctis look so small before.

When Ignis returned, carrying more reports and paperwork—intending to complete it while they waited for dinner—he found Noctis packed and eager at the door. He was scuffing the polished toe of his dress shoe on the wood flooring

“We’re going.” He grunted, shoving by Ignis none too gently. The advisor blinked, startled by the rough treatment before quickly collecting his items and trotting after Noctis.

“Noct, it would be better to wait here for dinner. By the time we return home, we’ll need to turn around—“

“We’re not going.” Ignis froze, watching his prince stride forward. He was set on his goal. He wanted to disappear from the citadel. But Ignis had never known of Noctis to refuse dinner with his father. They happened so rarely that—

“Noct, did something happen?” He called, catching up to him in the elevator. Noctis glanced at the attendant, then down at his own hands that the in anger. The young attendant watched the prince cautiously, hoping that the doors would open quickly. Noctis was out the door before they were fully open — striding through the hall. He scanned the crowd, biting the inside of his cheek in anger as the citizens didn’t bow. Didn’t he deserve their respect? No… Of course not. He had disappointed his father, why would random citizens care about him…

Cor stood outside next to Ignis’s officially sanctioned car, the motor already running. Ignis swallowed delicately, eyeing the Marshall as Noctis walked straight past him. Cor’s ice eyes narrowed on the young man as he climbed into the car, slamming the door almost immediately—leaving no room to talk. Ignis saluted Cor respectfully, head bowed.

“Sir.”

“At ease, Scientia.” Cor held out two new folders. “I was instructed to give these to you.” Ignis accepted the new folders, glancing at them curiously.

“Running errands now, Marshall?” Cor shot Ignis a sharp gaze. The young advisor schooled his expression quickly, covering his lips with a fist as he faked a cough.

“His Majesty wanted to ensure that Prince Noctis received his new schedule.”

“Schedule?” Ignis frowned, to his knowledge, he was in charge of the Prince’s schedule—albeit Noctis had most of the control. He flicked open he folder and frowned at the laminated schedule. More training…? He glanced at the tinted windows, making out the outline of Noctis slumped against the door. “Thank you, Marshall.” Ignis murmured, voice slightly churned by concern.

“Scientia. Keep your eyes on his majesty, please.” Cor reached out to pat the advisor-in-training on his shoulder as he began to climb the citadel steps. “Something is going on.”

“Right…” Ignis frowned, sighing as he climbed into the driver’s seat, setting the papers down in the passenger seat. Noctis had his eyes closed, forehead resting against the cold window. He wanted to press the issue, wanted to know what happened in the hour,, or so he’d left Noctis’s side. He was about to pull away from the citadel when one of the back doors opened, and the Shield crashed into the soft leather seat.

“Where we off to?” He called, smirking slightly at the small expression of shocks on Ignis’s lips. Noctis jerked up as the car leaned somewhat to one side.

“What are you doing here.” He snapped, and both men frowned immediately, not recognizing the angry tone in their charge’s voice.

“Noct.”

“What’s your problem brat.” Gladio and Ignis stated at the same time, but Noctis was already glaring out the window, elbow propping his head up. Ignis sighed, not quite understanding what was going on. Gladio glared at him for a while, finally breaking off with a scoff of disgust. “Head to the arcade.” He ordered, shocking Noctis out of his pout.

“What?!” He choked out, making Gladio smirk.

“Got something to say, princess?”

“Yeah. Why are _you_ taking _me_ to the arcade? Shouldn’t you be demanding we run laps around the citadel or do push-ups until I pass out?” Gladio raised a bushy eyebrow, clicking his tongue. Ignis frowned as well, eyeing the shield. He wasn’t as extreme as Noctis often claimed, but the guard rarely visited the arcade, much less encourage Noctis to do so.

“Would you rather we do that?” Gladio growled, and Noctis was quick to shake his head, turning back to the window but not before he had pulled his phone out of his pocket, texting Prompto curiously.

Prince o’ fishing: Where r u

Chocobutt: arcade. Gladio texted me. Dude I didn’t even know Gladio texted people. Texted me!? Dude, didja give him my #??

Noctis groaned, rubbing his face in annoyance. Something was going on that he couldn’t understand. Why was Gladio being… nice? They drove in silence for a while, Gladio opening one of his books and sinking into peaceful solitude. Ignis switched on the radio, listening quietly to the news before switching it to soft rock. He tapped his finger against the steering wheel, smiling slightly at the song.

Noctis glared.

The arcade appeared soon enough and Noctis clambered out of the car, still wearing his nice suit, and slammed the door behind him. Prompto looked up from where he was exchanging money for tokens and blinked in surprise.

“Dude, did you just come from a wedding or something?”

“No.”

“Then why are you—“ he cut himself off with a squeak at the dirty look Noctis passed his way. Prompto glanced back outside, Ignis was feeding the meter, and Gladio was chatting against the side of the car—both of them also in their formal wear. “Do yah need me to make a run with you?” Prompto asked in a conspirator whisper—enough to make Noctis drop his frown and smile, just the twist of his lips but enough to warrant a quick photo by the blonde.

Noctis groaned in the sudden flash, swiping some of the tokens from Prompto and ambling over to their favorite shooting game. He shoved the token in, swearing when the machine spat the coins right back out. He was about to punch the machine—for it had to be broken—when Ignis caught his arm.

“Allow me, Majesty.”

“Don’t call me that here,” Noctis muttered, but stepped back and allowed Ignis to feed the machine the tokens gently. Immediately the screen lit up, and the pixilated music hummed from the speakers. Noctis rushed through the tutorial and quickly made his way through the familiar levels. Usually, he would take it slow—searching and goofing off with Prompto—but not today.

Today he was angry. Pissed at himself more than anything. He shouldn’t be in an arcade! He should be helping his father carry the burden of the country! That was his whole damn purpose! There was no other point to him being alive, and with a splatter of fake blood on the screen, he allowed the plastic rifle to clatter to the gritty arcade floor. Around him, he heard a cheering roar, and he glanced up, flushing immediately at the crowd that had gathered in his reverie. The prince looked around helplessly, blinking as camera’s flashed. _What the Six? Why were people crowding him_ — Where were Ignis and Gladio?? He backed up as a little as the crowd continued to surge around him.

He was just wearing his suit—is that what had attracted all this attention. He meekly grabbed the tickets that printed from the machine, bobbing his head awkwardly as he tried to push his way through the throng of people.

“Prince Noctis!”

“What are you doing here, your majesty?”

“You’re so amazing at video games!”

“Do yah need a player 2?” There was so much noise, Noctis couldn’t even hear himself think and he felt his skin crawl as people tugged on his jacket, patted his arm. He cowered in on himself, eyes wide—unused to people touching him—crowding him.

Sure, this had happened a lot in elementary school, he thought that ended in the 5th grade? As he continued his awkward shuffle through the people, he began to hear less desirable comments—the people who stood apart from the crowd, eyeing the crown prince with disdain and disgust.

“Lazy.”

“That brat’s supposed to be our king someday?”

“Pft, lets hope the council never lets that happen.” Noctis felt agitated and petrified. Anger and discomfort tightened his skin and soon he found himself shoving and moving out of the arcade in a hurry, past a worried Ignis and a growling Gladio, practically running as he found himself in a quiet alleyway.

He glanced around, not knowing exactly where he thought he was going—but knowing he had to leave all the same. He swallowed again, trying to bring moisture back to his mouth.

“Noctis!” He flinched at his own name, glancing back where Prompto ran to meet him, cheeks flushed and eyes worried. “Dude, you okay?” Noctis stared at his best friend, finding himself trembling and weak. _Weak_. Always so damn _weak_. He was the reason that Prompto was worried, just because a simple crowd had flustered him! He shrugged his shoulders, hands still buried deep in his pockets, playing with the little thread inside his right pocket.

“… lots of people.” Noctis offered in lieu of a better explanation. Prompto nodded sympathetically, bumping shoulders.

“Not used to that royal reception, huh? I guess that makes sense, you always were kinda a loner.” Prompto watched Noctis carefully, quickly retracing his steps. “Not that that’s a bad thing! Being alone is cool!… Sometimes…” He trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck when he felt the prince lean against him slightly. He knew the sounds he heard, but he never thought he’d hear them coming from Noctis.

He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, staying still as Noctis sniffled against him. Ignis and Gladio found them after a few minutes. The two looked annoyed and worried, and Gladio had his mouth open to shout when Prompto stopped him—shooting a glare at the behemoth of a man with all the strength his freckled expression could muster. The two aides stopped, watching as Noctis pulled himself together, wiping at his nose as if everything was okay. As if his eyes were ringed with red and his face wasn’t the color of alabaster.

“Arcades’ too crowded.” He called, shrugging his shoulders. “Lets go play at my apartment.”

“Sounds good to me! It’s been a while since I kicked Gladio’s butt at king’s knight!”

“What was that pipsqueak?”

“You heard me!” Prompto grinned, jumping out of the way of Gladio’s lunge. Noctis felt his heavy heart lifted just slightly at the sight of the two of them.

Prompto… at least he hadn’t disappointed Prompto.


	5. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, thank ya'll so much for the Kudos and Comments! They make me beyond happy and thrilled!!! Im like... AH! I can't believe ya'll like this so far ^~^ Nothing really PG-13 has happened yet, but I'm getting there. Hopefully the scene turns out okay! <3

Noctis awoke to the slamming of fists on his apartment door. His head was thick with sleep’s cotton and it took him a while to muster the courage to extract himself from the bed. Prompto clung to his warmth and Noctis smiled inwardly. It felt nice to share the bed with someone, even if Prompto kicked like a sabertusk in his sleep. He shuffled towards the door, blinking curiously when he heard someone answer it for him.

“Sir.” It was the soft voice of Ignis. Why had he stayed the night? The prince thought curiously, then recalled the prior night, the four men playing video games till dawn—Gladio’s roars of defeat as Prompto K.O.’d him again. Ignis’s quiet remarks of cheating as Noctis unleashed his secret combo. The smell of popcorn still lingered in the air. Sweet and buttery, with notes of carbon from Prompto’s failed attempt at cooking that had left Noctis rolling on the floor. He smiled warmly to himself, wondering if Gladio too was passed out somewhere.

The prince continued to shuffle towards from the bedroom hallway and into the main room. He saw discarded cans of pop and bags of sweets. There was a plate of half-eaten apple slices and Noctis fondly recalled Ignis attempting to get _something_ healthy into the mix of candy and soda. The few cans of ebony told Noctis that even Ignis had let that go eventually. The pillows were strewn, and there, of course, was the hulking shield, snoring loudly and nearly drowning out the conversation at the door.

Noctis smirked, trying to remember if he had a permanent marker. Usually, Gladio was awake before him, so he couldn’t allow this golden opportunity to pass. However, before he could enact his diabolical plan, he poked his head beyond the corner, gazing at the doorway. _Who could possibly be awake at the ungodly hour of 9:00 AM?_

He froze upon seeing Drautos’s bulk filling the doorway, arms crossed angrily over his chest as he surveyed the small pocket of the apartment that he could see. His eyes locked on the prince’s bedhead and immediately the prince felt as if he should curl up. There was something cruel in his eyes that he couldn’t pinpoint. He wanted to slip away, but it was clear that the captain had seen him and wasn’t he trying to prove that he wasn’t weak?

“I came to collect his Majesty.” He growled, sending a chill down his spine. Ignis frowned, adjusting his glasses as he always did when he was uncomfortable. _Collect_. As if Noctis was a thing to be picked up and carried. As if he was simply a piece to be pushed around. Ignis had to keep his voice steady--it seemed nowadays people were treating the prince with less and less respect--even when Noctis had done little--if _anything_ \--to earn their ire.

“Is there an emergency? I received no notification of a meeting.” Ignis asked diplomatically, still barring the Captain's entrance. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the sleepy face of his prince and part of Ignis melted. Noctis’s face was clear of anxiety and worry when he was asleep, and that expression of innocence still clung to him in the few minutes after he’d woken up. Ignis cherished those moments. He smiled lightly and watched as a spattering of blush rose on his ivory skin. 

“No. However, I have an important meeting with his Majesty.” Drautos’s eyes never left the princeling, drinking in his bedraggled appearance. The prince wore a black shirt with a bright green fish on it that proclaimed: King of Fishing, as well as black satin boxers. He yawned in front of him, and a muscle in Drautos’ eye twitched, trying to maintain his calm. _How coddled this brat was!_ “Have you forgotten _already_ , Prince Noctis.” Noctis blinked groggily, then took in a shaky breath.

Right. Training. Stronger. Disappointment.

He swallowed heavily, feeling his mouth dry of moisture.

“N-no.” Noctis’s voice croaked hesitantly. “I um… just need a few minutes to get ready.”

“You have five. Don’t waste any more of my time.” He ordered and the indignant part of Noctis wanted to take his sweet time. No one ordered him around, least of all Drautos, but hadn’t he asked for this? Begged Drautos to train him? Still… he was the prince.

Noctis decided on a curt bob of his head before retreating to his room, hurrying about to collect his things for training. His bag was mostly packed and reeked of Gladio and sweat. Two things that he’d rather not stink of.

He didn’t try and be quiet, a little disgruntled that his friend had yet to face the morning. The freckled face scrunched up in annoyance, scowling as one hazy purple eye surveyed the room and the cause of all the noise. Prompto threw a pillow towards him before trying to bury his face in the silk pillows.

“Nooooooooct… can you like… exist…. Quieter?” His voice was muffled by the pillows, and Noctis snorted, grabbing the discarded pillow. He aimed it at Prompto and threw it—hard. He felt the familiar tug in his gut, the intake of power and then how it exploded outward as his body shifted and warped through space to tackle Prompto off the bed.

“SHIVA’S TITS!” Prompto cried as the two of them rolled off the bed and into a pile on the floor, Prompto trying to stay mad but managing only to laugh hysterically. Ignis’s soft knock on the door couldn’t be heard over the laughter and when the advisor poked his head in, he was met with the two’s shenanigans as they wrestled on the floor next to the bed. Silently, he packed the rest of Noct’s training gear, shaking his head. Honestly, what would Noctis do without him? He would have to remind the prince later that he was not, in fact, his maid and that he should be more responsible.

A pillow smacked the back of his head, disturbing his musing. It fell to the floor with a soft poof and the air in the room froze.

“Six… You hit Iggy…” Prompto hissed in a tone that said he was looking forward to Noctis getting pummeled. Ignis slowly turned to face them, eyes sharp behind his glasses as both boys scrambled to their feet.

“Get dressed. Now.” He ordered, dropping the bag on the floor as he moved towards the door. Just before he left, he scooped up the pillow and hurled it with deadly accuracy at Noct’s face sending the prince toppling back and igniting a new round of laughter from his friend.

~ ~ ~

It took more than five minutes for Noctis to emerge from his room, and the expression on Drautos’ expression quickly sobered the happy environment. His arms were crossed across his broad chest, fingers drumming on his strained muscles. Noctis looked up, feathers stuck in his tufted fog-grey hair, and red blotches peppering his face. Drautos had heard the laughter--the way the prince so easily disobeyed a command. Like a poorly trained dog. Spoiled with treats. Well... Drautos could change that. He trained that mongrel Nyx, the prince couldn't be much harder. 

“Let's go.” He growled and Noctis hesitated. Another failure to follow a command! The prince loitered around, shuffling around before grabbing a muffin from the counter. Ignis stopped him for a moment, gently taking his arm and leaning in to whisper something in his ear. The prince's smile returned, glowing. Drautos bristled that the soon to be king wasn't even trying to hide his affection for his underlings.

Drautos cleared his throat loudly, startling the three in the room and disturbing the shield from his bear-like slumber. Noctis mellowed and sighed, waving at Prompto who had shuffled into the room and plopped down at the counter. Finally, Noctis followed him quietly, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“When should I expect the prince to return?” Ignis called, holding a mug of untouched coffee. Drautos glanced down at Noctis, sneering—but only enough for the prince to see.

“When I deem him fit.” Drautos called before storming out of the apartment—a timid Noctis in his wake. Prompto stared after them, eating an apple at the counter.

“Who was that?” He asked curiously, looking up at the normally composed advisor. His sharp eyes caught the tremble in Ignis’s hand, shaking the coffee ever so slightly.

“Trouble.”

~ ~ ~

The training room was quiet and empty. Dust motes twirled in the air, disappeared and reappearing in the beams of light that crashed through windows far above. The ground was made of packed dirt and the prince tried to hide his disdain as he shuffled over to a bench and set his stuff out. He began to take out his knee brace and water bottle when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He ducked just as a wooden sword crashed with the wall where his head was.

The prince’s eyes were wide, breath ragged in his chest as he slowly looked up at Drautos, letting out a grunt as he dodged out of the way of foot.

“Ifrits Balls, what are you doing!?” Noctis shouted as he danced back, looking for something to defend himself with. He growled and reached inside of himself, feeling the tense of power under his ribcage, the way it pulsed with his heart outward. He stretched his hand out and roared as his engine blade fell in his hand just in time for him to parry Drautos’s next blow.

The captain was relentless, pressing forward with each swing and little difficulty. All Noctis could do was defend himself, sweat dripping down his back as he looked around. He was still learning how to control his magic, but he knew how to do this. As Drautos wound up for another swing, Noctis threw his sword and warped after it, hanging from the wall as he watched the captain. He knew that Drautos could warp after him, but he wasn’t expecting it, his hard eyes widening slightly as the prince panted.

“You think that an enemy will wait for you to change? Get a sip of water? You think that what we’re teaching you is for show!?” Drautos called, slowly stalking towards the dangling prince. Noctis tried to control his breathing but there was fear curling in the pit of his stomach. Still, he kept his apathetic expression on, cheeks red from the exertion. His eyelids tugged against their open position, resisting the demand to stay awake. His body wasn’t used to constantly using magic and he was beginning to wonder if that was just another way he had failed his kingdom.

He didn’t respond to Drautos’ jeers as he walked closer. Noctis trembled, his grip on his sword wavering as he felt sweat coat his palm. _Crap_! Warping like this meant that he was holding his body up with one arm. He didn’t have that much upper body strength to begin with! His shoulder burned and his arms strained as his fingers—numb with adrenaline—slipped from the handle and then he was falling.

He landed with an _UMPH_ , cringing as his left leg took the brunt of the fall. It wasn’t far enough to be lethal, but the impact shook his bones and sent him to his knees, cradling his throbbing leg. An old injury—won along with the scar on his back—sent flames up to his spine. He bit his lip, glaring up at Drautos. T _his stupid man_. He sprang up, summoning a lance but Drautos was swift and quickly dispatched the prince’s weapon and with a sharp kick to his chest, sent the kid sprawling on his back, groaning as he coughed and choked. Dust raised from their scuffle, but Drautos had hardly broken a sweat.

“Pathetic. I could have killed you at any point.” He snarled dangerously, stalking around Noctis as the boy recovered. “You are the hope for this kingdom? You’re a spoiled brat—“

“Shut up!” Noctis snapped, glaring back with fire in his cobalt eyes. “For Eos sake!” Drautos raised one brow, eyes narrowing simultaneously.

“You would dare to speak to me in that tone.”

“You’re not my father, and you’re not my shield,” Noctis growled as he rose to his feet. Drautos watched with satisfaction as the boy held his weight on his right leg, cheeks flushed as deep breaths seemed to be a struggle. “You don’t have the right to speak to me like I am a child! I train every day! I work hard!”

“Clearly not hard enough. Even your defense is pathetic.” Noctis lit with anger, limping forward and opening his mouth to say something when Drautos’s thick fingers wrapped around his pearly neck, squeezing tightly and cutting off any words that the prince may have thrown at him.

Drautos watched as his throat tried to swallow, felt the desperate fluttering of his bird-like pulse against the pads of his fingers and grinned as he felt the kicks and claws of a coddled child. Noctis’ eyes were wide, terrified and openly expressing his shock and fear. His mouth was open, gasping on air that wasn’t. His little fingers pulled and tugged but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even think rationally enough to summon his daggers.

“You’re nothing but a worthless child.” Drautos hissed at him, waiting until he saw the dimming of consciousness before throwing the prince to the floor. “Now. Let’s begin.”


	6. Advisor and Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drautos is a dick ;u; Next chapter will be a little shorter ~ But things'll be rampin up soon! Thank you for the comments and Kudos! If you ever wanna chat about this fic im on insta as @smul_shinya ~

The advisor paced the entire day, back and forth, sweeping through the apartment like a force of nature as he picked up from the excitement the previous night. Collecting cans in one bag, and wrappers in another. Washing dishes, folding laundry—anything to keep himself and his mind busy.

He was grateful when Prompto decided to stay for a while, relaxing at the countertop and occasionally popping over to assist in the cleaning. The young man had only entered Noctis’s life in high school, but his sunny demeanor was without question one of the greatest gifts the Astrals could have bestowed upon the moody prince. Even now, Prompto’s mindless chatter kept Ignis engaged and his mind distant from whatever Noctis could possibly be doing.

Prompto talked endlessly about the new update on kingsknight, and the new hire that he was training at the coffeehouse he worked at. Around 3:00, Prompto ducked out, citing that he was needed at work. He said he would be back later, and Ignis gave him a quiet and curt nod. He didn’t want to admit that he wanted Prompto to stay. Even with Gladio, the apartment felt woefully empty without their younger members of their group.

Gladio stuck around, seemingly unbothered by the surprise day off—at least to the untrained eye. Ignis knew the shield far too well to believe that he was content simply mulling around the apartment and waiting for Noctis to return. _If he returned_ , some cruel voice in his head whispered. Ignis ignored it. Tried to ignore it. He needed to focus his energy on something else.

At 5:00 PM the young advisor found himself sitting on the couch next to Gladio. The shield had his arm thrown casually over the tense advisor, massaging circles into his shoulder. Gladio was thumbing through a book, and when pressed he admitted he was reading it to help Iris with a project. Ignis rolled his eyes inwardly. Gladio was a devoted brother and it seemed like such a silly thing to hide.

Why not simply admit he would cut the moon in two for his little sister—girls loved that sort of thing. Gladio happily finished his book, setting it down on the coffee table as he glanced at Ignis’s assortment of highlighters and post-it notes. He was marking up the reports and Gladio grunted his disgust.

“He can do that himself.” He muttered, glancing up from his phone.

“And he _does_.” Ignis shot him a glare, telling him that this line of questioning was over. “This is for me, Gladiolus.” Ignis stood up sharply, pacing over to a pile of reports and shoving them roughly at the shield.

“He already read and marked them all.” Gladio bit back his remark, mentally scolding himself.

“Oh.”

“Have more faith in him, Gladiolus, please.” Ignis urged, leaning slightly into the warmth of the shield.

“It’s hard to… I’ve grown up with him. You know he’s nothing like the brat he used to be but I still see…”

“The chubby prince wandering about the halls of the citadel?” Ignis smiled gently and Gladio chuckled, nodding back.

“Something like that.” Gladio rubbed the back of his head. “He’s gotten stronger, Ignis. You wouldn’t believe the progress he’s made. He’s able to warp properly now. He needs a little more bulk, but he’s well on his way to becoming a worthy sword.” Gladio glowed in pride, grinning as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he rocked forward. He was beyond proud of the prince, having seen him grow more dedicated and stronger for the sake of his country.

Ignis chuckled, knowing how fond Gladio was of the prince, but how infrequently he shared this with Noctis.

“He certainly has grown into a strong young man. He will make a fine king.” Ignis mused quietly, rubbing Gladio’s back with one hand. “No. More than fine.” Ignis smiled to himself, “he’ll be perfect.”

“Careful, Scientia.” Gladio rumbled, laughing softly. “Your emotions are showing.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.” Ignis grinned, sighing, flicking his wrist to gaze and the small ticking hands of his wristwatch. He loved the little ornament, a gift—presumably bought by the king himself—but gifted to Ignis by a young Noctis eager to make his advisor smile. “It’s growing late… He should be back.” Ignis murmured again. It was 6:00 now, and despite a few texts fired earlier in the afternoon, he had received nothing in return. He tried to tamp down his anxiety, telling himself that Noctis was with the captain of the Kingsglaive.

“I won’t leave until he returns,” Gladio promised, watching as Ignis’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Much obliged.” He murmured softly.

At 8:00 Ignis considered calling Drautos directly.

No word.

Nothing. He was anxiously cooking eggs into steamed rice and chicken. He stirred the pan, gently, allowing the aromas of spices to fill his chest and his nose. He doused the rice with soy sauce, letting it crackle on the edges of the pan. Gladio was doing a light workout in the living room, with the television streaming the evening news.

That is when the door opened, casting in the gentle breeze of the early winter of Insomnia.

Ignis froze, but decided to continue cooking, stirring the pan quickly. He felt his knuckles tighten over the spoon that he was using, and once he felt his voice was steady he called: “Welcome home.” He heard the grunt of acknowledgement. At least this was normal, Noctis normally wasn’t talkative upon immediately arriving home. Ignis knew his prince well and smiled at that piece of knowledge. He knew how to handle Noctis, how to care for him better than anyone else in Eos. Perhaps that was taking it too far, but his thoughts were private and Ignis was proud of his role in shaping the young monarch.

He heard Gladio grunt as he picked himself up from his latest round of pushups, lumbering towards the entranceway where Noctis was tugging off his shoes. Gladio’s shout startled Ignis in the relative quiet, the advisor quickly turning off the stove, feeling that dinner would have to wait.

“What happened.”

“Not right now, Gladio.” Noctis’ voice was meek, and there was a raspiness to it, as if he hadn’t had water in several days. There was a pleading edge, hidden under his apathetic answer. Gladio couldn’t hear it but Ignis could.

“What. Happened.” Gladio growled and this time, he heard the shuffling of the two as Gladio manhandled Noctis out of the dimly lit entrance way and over to the bright light of the kitchen.

When Ignis saw him, he didn’t see anything beyond the discolored splotches covering the boy’s throat. His spoon fell to the floor, spilling grains of rice on the floor as he rushed over and grabbed Noct’s hands, moving up to catch Noct’s jaw gently in his hands. He lightly tilted his chin up so that he could expose the coils of bruises that formed cruel tattoos against his ivory skin. Standing out like starscourge.

“Noctis what in Eos happened to you?”

“It’s nothing. It's okay.” He muttered, attempting to pull himself away but Gladio clamped his hands down on Noct’s shoulders, keeping him rooted there. Noctis sighed, but the shield and advisor saw the way he struggled to keep standing, how he favored his right side. The advisor knew well of the long healed knee injury, but could that truly be acting up now? No. It must be connected to the prince’s marred throat.

Ignis’s fingers were gentle as they swept along the bruises, finding the spots where they were darkest, around the jugular, around his esophagus. Around his voice box. Whoever had done this knew anatomy and knew where to apply pressure to quickly subdue and incapacitate their target.

“This,” he growled, shocking both of the young men in the room. They had never seen this level of rage in the normally composed advisor. “This is not okay. This will _never_ be okay.” He tilted Noct’s face up, looking into eyes that he thought he knew, but there was something broken in them. The prince’s face was apathetic, distant, empty and exhausted. This wasn’t the same boy that left this morning. “Noct, what happened.”

“I got stronger,” Noctis whispered softly, his breath brushing against the stray hairs that fell from Ignis’s sprayed do. He pulled away and this time, Gladio and Ignis let him, watching as he limped towards his room.

Gladio clenched his fist, waiting until he heard the spray of water from Noct’s bathroom. He grabbed an apple shakily, but the poor fruit hardly stood a chance as it was flattened in the shield’s palm.

“I’ve given him a few nasty shiners from sparring,” Gladio began, eyes filled with rage and disgust. “However, never once have I laid my hands on his throat. That is not something—sure there is training to resist torture, but that’s not for Noctis! That’s for us to protect him from! I-If _Drautos_ did this— Six, I can’t imagine _WHY_ he would do something like that, but if he did—!” Ignis empathized with Gladio’s inability to form a sentence, stumbling over his words as he prowled around the kitchen like a behemoth.

“He’ll tell us the full story with time.” Ignis murmured, shakily serving three bowls of the delicious chicken and rice concoction. “Until then, we is not leaving my sight.” Gladio looked over, letting out a deep sigh before nodding.

“Mine either. I’ll call Iris and have her bring over a bag of my things.” Glad grabbed his spoon and bowl, hesitating before taking a bite. “Should we tell his majesty?”

“… Honestly, Gladiolus, I haven’t the faintest idea of what we should do.” He removed his glasses, massaging the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not your fault, Ignis.”

“No? That is news to me.” Ignis chuckled softly, glancing anxiously at Noct’s door. He heard the shower shut off and then the padding of Noctis moving around. “My duty is to advise his highness, but how am I to do that when I don’t know what is plaguing him?”

“He’s a teenager, Igs.” Gladio chuckled dryly, “and before that he’s Noctis. He ain’t sharing personal details without a little push.”

“He wasn’t always like that and you know it as well as I do.”

“I do.” Gladio raised a thick brow. “But that was a long time ago. He’s changed and the only thing we can do for him now is keep pushing him.” Ignis rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself.

“Is violence always your answer?”

“I’ve yet to find a problem that I can’t beat my way through.” The shield joked, prodding Ignis with his spoon. The advisor let out another deep breath, continuing to watch his charge’s door.

“Let us hope that whatever is harming Noctis is an issue with an equally simple answer then.”


	7. Drautos' Demands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter -w- Drautos is making a move~!   
> Thank you for all the comments! You guys make me wanna keep writing!!!!

With the water turned on and the sounds of the kitchen drowned out, Noctis felt his leg give out, catching himself on the edge of the vanity, his arms shaky. He gingerly touched his throat, wincing at the tenderness that erupted at even the slightest touch.

The young prince shuddered, heart pounding in his chest as he tried to get control of himself. His body was quaking, his breath coming out in shaky jumps. “You’re okay.” He whispered weakly as he watched himself in the mirror.

“You’re stronger than this…” He nodded at his reflection, eyes skirting around the ropes of bruises. Slowly he took off his shirt, teeth clenched as his muscles protested. His joints popped and with a high pitched whine he threw the shirt into the corner, collapsing forward onto the vanity, chest heaving. His body was no better, blossoming red and black bruises stained his skin, like tattoos that coated him and he wanted to rip them off. Wanted to rid himself of the evidence. His wrists were sore, more of those snake-like bruises circling them.

He couldn’t even recall what happened.

Not really. It came back in little flashes, like snippets from an old movie. He remembered Drautos grabbing his throat, remembered those fingers and the way that the captain stared at him with this cold vicious smile. He had said something, but he couldn’t quite recall what it was.

No… He did remember.

“Help.” That is the word that broke out of him back then and then fell from his split lip now as he stared at his reflection. He felt the burning itch in his eyes before he was able to look away. He was quick to rub away the tears, to stop them at his track, but still the resonating pressure in his head build. He didn’t even realize that he had a headache over the rest of the aches in his body. The way his shoulders ached from the warping, the way his chest throbbed from the blows he’d been unable to block.

Noctis shook his head, trying to clear out the fear that radiated from him. He was okay. Drautos wasn’t here.

He was safe.

He was safe…

_“Now, highness.” He recalled Drautos saying as he crushed the prince’s head into the dirt. “You’re far weaker than even I could have predicted. But don’t worry. I can help you get better. Get stronger. You want that, don’t you?” He taunted and made Noctis’ flesh crawl._

But the prince did want that. He wanted that more than anything.

The princeling saw the way that Ignis and Gladio had looked at him—they were scared for him. He had made them worry! All because he wasn’t strong enough to take care of himself! They shouldn’t have to worry about him, they should trust that he was able to protect himself! But he wasn’t.

The raven whimpered, stripping himself of his pants and boxers. He didn’t look down there. He recalled snip-its, and they sent his flesh crawling.

_“You’re pathetic. Anything that happens now is your fault.”_

That is what Drautos had told him when he was pinned down.

Noctis stepped weakly into the shower, closing his eyes under the torrential storm of water. He didn’t want to think of anything. He didn’t want to think about the scratches and the bruises. He didn’t want to think about the ache in his knee and how he limped just like his father did. He didn’t want to think about ANY of that.

But he believed Drautos. He felt his right leg quiver and unceremoniously found himself on the floor of his shower, pretending that the water streaming down his face was just the shower and not his own salty tears.

“Iggy…” Noctis whispered, burying his face in his arms as the water slowly began to turn cold. “Iggy I can’t do this…” He shook his head miserably, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand. “I… I don’t want to go back.”

He felt his head resting against the tiled wall, it felt so nice, the cool tiles pressed against his forehead. He closed his eyes, taking in deep calming breaths. He could handle this. He was okay.

Eventually Noctis picked himself up. He had no idea how much time had passed and he didn’t particularly care. His skin was numb, covered in goose-pimples. He didn’t spare himself a glance in the mirror, just grabbed a towel and bundled himself up, drying himself as quickly as possible so that he could put on a large sweatshirt and baggy pants. The limp was worse, he found, as he tried to move himself around his room.

He swore weakly, feeling like his father as he dragged his leg uselessly behind him. His body wanted to collapse on his bed but there was something he had to do.

He pulled himself to the door and opened it, leaning heavily on the handle as he looked towards the kitchen. His eyes locked on Gladio and there was that familiar burning sensation in his eyes. Gladio glanced up at the door’s opening, eyes skeptical, before continuing to shovel food into his mouth.

He had to do this.

But he didn’t want to.

He wanted Gladio to protect him.

But a king has to be able to protect himself.

He was weak.

He needed Drautos.

“Gladio,” Noctis called, hating the tremble in his voice. “You’re dismissed. I have a new shield now.”


	8. King's Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter for y'all ~ Heehee -3- I love writing this store so much
> 
> 3 updates in one day~ Im excited to have done so much!!!

Two weeks had passed since Noct's announcement, and Ignis found himself walking on eggshells around the prince. Noctis wasn’t the same after that first training session—it was clear after he'd tried to dismiss Gladio.

~

~

~

_“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Gladio called, setting his spoon down with a heavy sigh, turning on the bar stool to look at where the raven was using the doorway to prop himself up._

_“I-I… n-need someone who won’t treat me like I’m fragile.” Noctis murmured and took a shaky step, but even that was too much as he tipped forward, nearly collapsing. Ignis had never seen the bulky shield move faster than when he sprinted to catch Noctis before he hurt himself more._

_Noctis shoved at Gladio, trying to push him away but Gladio’s arms were firm and solid and soon the battered prince gave up and allowed his shield to carry him over to the table._

_“First of all, I don’t treat you like you’re fragile. Don’t insult me like that.” He spoke gently, sitting his charge at the table and taking his hands in his own. Despite his soft tone, he was firm. The prince was trembling and Gladio could feel the weak shudders of fear, or pain? He didn’t know. “Sit down, eat, and tell us what is going on.”_

_Noctis looked down, balling his fists, but leaning into Gladio’s touch. He was warm and solid and helped to keep him grounded._

_“I am going to be training from Drautos now. I-I don’t want to train with you anymore.” Gladio bit his cheek, trying to get the prince to meet his eyes but he found that now matter how he tilted his head, he couldn’t catch the prince’s gaze._

_“Alright. We can discuss switching who trains you, but Noctis, I will always be your shield, understand? Nothing but death can change that.” Noctis finally looked up, eyes soft and vulnerable._

_“… Gladio…”_

_“Eat now, talk later.” Gladio reached out and ruffled his wet hair, smiling gently. Noctis smiled meekly as Ignis carried his dish over and picked up a discarded towel, gently rubbing it over the prince’s head to try and soak up the water._

_“Noct.” The prince tilted his head to look up at his advisor and the bespecled man gently leaned down and kissed the prince’s nose. “Whatever happened… we will stand by you and your decisions. Please don’t hide your struggles from us.”_

_“You can dismiss us all you want, but we’re also your friends.” Gladio reminded Noctis, flicking his forehead like he would his little sister. “And that means you can’t get rid of us.”_

_The prince looked down, and the older men tried not to stare as Noctis let out these tiny whimpers and muffled sniffles, trying to hide his pain. Gladio’s frown deepened, but Ignis’s eyes caught something else. Hidden in one of the darkest bruises, a puncture mark. His eyes widened momentarily before he continued to rub the prince’s hair dry._

_“Don’t worry Noct… should even the stars grow dim, I remain forever at your side.” This, the advisor swore._

~

~

~

That was two weeks ago, and Ignis felt like every session with Drautos pushed the prince farther and farther out of his reach. Ignis knew that he couldn’t protect Noctis forever, but _Gods,_ he wanted to. He longed to wrap his prince up, kiss his forehead and protect him from the nightmares—both imaginary and physical.

The advisor had come to loathe Drautos—whom every morning would appear at the doorway. The third time he appeared, he handed Ignis a letter from the academy the prince attended. It was a notice that said Noctis would no longer be attending class.

Ignis was horrified, and it took all his training to keep himself from rushing out of the apartment and driving to the citadel to demand answers. Noctis loved going to school—well— as much as _any_ teenager likes high school. Either way, school is where he hung out with Prompto—where the two of them met. It was what made Noctis feel normal.

Still, there was no protest from the prince and when Ignis asked Noctis later, the prince _ordered_ him to drop it. The advisor was shocked, trying not to take personal offense at the order. Noctis' never ordered him to do anything.

Ignis knew that something else was going on. But Noctis didn’t say anything when he came home from training. He was quiet, showering before he laid on the couch. Ignis made him dinner and they’d sit together reading the reports.

Ignis always noted the injuries. How the bruises were patterned and how they seemed to be getting worse, darker. Then there were the cuts, the gashes — the split lips. Then, the most horrifying thing — track marks on Noctis’s arms.

_What kind of drugs could he possibly be taking? Was he doing it himself? Was Drautos forcing him to take drugs?_

He demanded answers, pressing Noctis about the marks. The fight was one of the worst Ignis ever had with the prince, ending with the raven disappearing into the night. Ignis searched all over the city for him, even called in a code behemoth, having the kingsglaive and crowns guard descend upon Insomnia looking for the prince. Nyx found him passed out on the roof of Prompto’s house.

According to the distressed blonde, he hadn’t spoken to Noctis in a week. He didn’t know the prince had even camped out there.

Ignis didn’t ask again. Perhaps he was shirking his duty, but he wanted to make Noctis feel safe with him.

~~~

Two weeks had passed, and the agile prince he knew was beginning to disappear.

He rarely ate, and when he did, it was like he couldn’t get enough. He was a thin boy, with no room for weight loss, and yet he had already lost twenty pounds over the two weeks he’d trained with Drautos Over that time, he’d seen the prince’s pale skin turn to snow, noticed the dark circles surround the increasingly dimming eyes. He wasn’t there, and that is what scared Ignis the most. When he looked into those eyes--the eyes he dreamed about, there was no one looking back.

Noctis woke up at 7:00 Am and Ignis already was out in the common room trying to prepare something that Noctis could eat. He’d practically moved in since the training began. When Noctis got himself out of bed without the use of an alarm or a wake-up call from Ignis, The advisor was shocked. Red flags were flying. This wasn’t the boy Ignis had sworn his loyalty to, this was some shattered broken down version.

Noctis limped into the kitchen, cheeks beginning to hollow out as he collapsed on the island.

“Noct…” Ignis began, not knowing what to do or say. How to help his charge. However before Noctis could muster up an answer the doorbell rang.

Ignis felt anger in his chest, coiled like a serpant. How dare that man come here again. How dare he injure his prince, how dare he return day and day again to hurt the gem of Insomnia. He smiled curtly at his exhausted prince who didn’t even raise his head at the sound.

Ignis strode over to the door and opened it, trying to retain his composure but what greeted him drained the stress. Nyx and Gladio stood at the doorway, the two with forced natural smiles.

“How may I help you gentlemen?” Ignis heard himself say as if he was watching from far away.

“We come bearing gifts.” Nyx held out a box.

“Captain told us to bring ‘em.” Gladio rumbled, shooting Ignis a knowing look. He’d been an admirable friend, stepping away from Noctis at the prince’s request, but remaining diligent in his duty and never more than a phone call away. Still, the advisor and shield detested the captain. They messaged each other regularly, the shield terrified for the young prince’s state.

Ignis bowed out of the doorway, allowing them in. As they kicked off their boots he walked into the kitchen, worrying when he saw Noctis still laying where he’d flopped over. He was asleep, that much Ignis could tell. Gladio thudded in, freezing when he saw Noctis.

“Shit Igs, you never told me it was this bad.” The shield growled, misdirecting his rage at the hand of the prince.

“My apologies, perhaps if you visited then I wouldn’t need to report to you like some _messenger_.” Ignis snapped back, feeling himself worn thin by the stress of the past weeks. Nyx stared, eyes widening as he slowly approached. He was a friend of Gladio and Ignis, and had served as one of Noct’s guards when the prince still lived in the citadel, but he definitely wasn’t as close as Ignis and Gladio.

“Why hasn’t this been reported?” Nyx asked, eyebrows drawn in anxiety. “These bruises are… they look more like assault than training.” The wary glaive turned to face Gladio. The shield quickly threw his hands up.

“I haven’t seen the kid in weeks. He’s been training with Drautos.”

“Drautos? That man trains soldiers, not the crown prince! He doesn’t know how to hold back!” The glaive hissed and Ignis nodded wearily—if only that was it. “He shouldn’t be training the prince.”

“I agree.” Ignis murmured. “But Noctis ordered us not to tell the king.” Nyx frowned at that, raising one brow at Ignis.

“And you listened to him?”

“I am trying to maintain his trust.” Ignis shot back, eyes narrowing at the implications. He didn’t _like_ the fact that Noctis was hurt. That the bruises he came home with were turning sinister. That Noctis screamed in his sleep, and would cry in the shower—but even the water couldn’t drown out the sound. No. Ignis didn’t want _any_ of this! But he couldn’t risk Noctis running away again, and the last thing he wanted to do was lock the prince up like a prisoner. “You wouldn’t understand.” Ignis finally murmured, sitting down in a chair.

He was disheveled, his hair unstyled and his shirt wrinkled. Even with all his spare time, Ignis felt like he was falling apart at the seams, watching the light of Eos-- the light of his life --be tainted. Ignis glanced at Noct’s arm, knowing the track marks that sat there.

He didn’t know if Noctis was doing drugs or not. Part of him hoped—stupidly so—that noctis was the one experimenting. That the prince was merely fooling around, like the teenager, he was.

But Ignis couldn’t believe that. He knew Noctis too well to think he would do something so foolish. _And that meant the only other explanation was…_

“Why don’t we all take the day off.” Nyx offered, interrupting Ignis dark thoughts, as the glaive peeled off his uniform jacket and gloves, throwing them over a seat and smiling at the others.

“No…” Noctis croaked, startling the three men. “Drautos… he said I need to get _stronger_."

Nyx frowned at the words, eyes narrowing as he turned Noct’s head to face him.

“Hey prince, you know, all us glaive’s think you’re plenty strong. Gladio won’t stop braggin’ about how he’s “molded the perfect monarch”—"

“Can it Ulric!” The glaive laughed softly and lowered his hand to rub Noct’s back like he would one of the younger recruits. He knew personally just how vicious Drautos could be. Still, he could feel the bumps of his spine and the knot of his near-fatal injury. There was no muscle. No strength. Just bones and skin.

“Gladio said you were strong. That you were getting better at magic. But you can’t keep pushing yourself like this. Otherwise you’ll get sick.” Almost at his words, a weak cough sounded from the prince—full of congestion and thick with effort. “My point’s made. You’re taking the day off.” Nyx held up his hands before the prince could protest, grinning gently. “Look, the captain sent some gifts. I’ll let him know we’re lookin’ after yah for the day. Easy, right?”

“Cake, baby…” Noctis murmured drowsily, burying his face back in his arms.

Gladio seethed, swatting at Nyx as soon as the Glaive pulled away, but he overbalanced when Nyx warped out of the way. Nyx grinned, smothering his laughter as Gladio danced with the bar stool—trying to keep himself and the chair upright. Ignis smiled thankfully at the two of them,

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Nyx. You have my thanks.”

~~~

It took a few hours, but eventually, Noctis was roused enough to actually be aware of his surroundings. Gladio had carried him over to the couch and the three men were chatting over coffee when Noctis really woke up. He looked at the clock and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the time.

“ASTRALS!” He shouted, scrambling out of his blanket burrito, too distracted to notice the low coffee table and he sent himself careening over it. He groaned, trying to pick himself up as Ignis and Gladio rushed over to him.

“Easy, Highness.” Gladio murmured, lifting the boy up like he weighed nothing—which was closer to the truth than Gladio preferred to admit. Noctis struggled, grabbing a pen from the coffee table and with a tight breath he warped away from Gladio, landing near his bedroom. He stumbled, but was able to stay standing. Gladio raised a brow in appreciation.

“You’re improving.” He grinned, stretching his arms over his head, his smile warm and soothing for the frayed nerves of the crown prince.

“Th-thanks… I-I’m late…” He mumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“No you’re not. Come back here.” Noctis yelped as Nyx suddenly lifted him up and threw him over his shoulder. “You are sick.” Nyx scolded, depositing Noctis back on the couch. Noct’s head lolled to the side, but Ignis was quickly there, wrapping the prince back up in the warm Chocobo blankets. He smiled gently, pressing his soft knuckles against the boy’s feverish forehead.

“You’re okay, heart,” Ignis whispered delicately, reaching out. Gladio quickly passed him a cold smoothie that Ignis had made. It held all the necessary nutrients for the malnourished prince, along with a straw. He pressed it to Noct's lips and only let out a breath when Noctis began to gently sip it.

“Apparently you got some packages.” Ignis smiled when Noct’s eyes lit up. He was such a silly boy, always excited by getting packages.

Ignis nodded as Gladio and Nyx eased next to the prince. Noctis shakily pulled the first package open, hands trembling. They all frowned, watching him unable to rip the duct tape. Ignis summoned his dagger quietly, slicing the tape when it was clear that Noctis couldn’t open them on his own. He handed the box’s back, only for them to be thrown across the room. Packing peanuts flew in flurries around the room.

“Noct?” Ignis asked as the objects clattered to the ground. His eyes were pinned on the prince who'd drawn himself up into a ball, body heaving as he tried to keep his breath steady and failed. Tears ran down his face, his frantic breaths filling the still room. “Highness, what is it?” He demanded, allowing Gladio to get up and walk over to collect the items.

Gladio swore when he saw what had been delivered, feeling rage fill him till it felt like his bones would explode. He picked the objects up and showing Ignis a cane and knee brace—designed to be nearly identical to the one’s Regis wore--but these ones had little Astrals on them rather than Bahamut. 

A note fluttered amongst the flurries of peanuts. Drautos’s rough script. Gladio saw it and wanted to crush it. 

“Like father, like son.”


	9. The Prince's Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so the next two weeks are my finals: time for people to be assholes because of stress and for me to channel my anxiety into this story.   
> I'm so so sorry Noctis.

“What is wrong with you?”

The voice haunted Noctis’s dreams—nightmares really— and made his heart thud dully against his chest. “I gave you a gift. Does is displease his princely-ness?”

“No, sir,” Noctis whispered, eyes on the floor. Another day of training. He had awoken to the sound of Drautos at the door—his day of leisure forgotten. Now he stood in the training room, feeling the weight of the captain’s gaze once again. He shot a look over to his things. The cane and knee brace lay over his bag. Noctis stood in the center of the training room, staring at a splotch of blood he’d failed to clean up. Exhaustion weighed on him, and his perfect posture began to fail. His shoulders slouched and before he could correct his posture Drautos—holding a switch— whipped his back.

The prince bit back a cry, puffing out chest and straightening his shoulders. His back ached—wounds that Noctis tried his best to hide from Ignis radiating with nauseating heat. His skin burned—some of it ripped open by the strength of the rod. The prince was shaking, but he knew that he had to be strong. _He would be strong_.

He stood arrow straight, knees apart as he tried to replicate the position that Drautos made him hold for hours on end. His chin was up—something of his own doing. His father told him to be proud, and he would. Even when Drautos beat him. He wouldn’t bow before anyone and he wouldn’t lower his head. Still, it took all his strength to remain still.

His body was burning with residual fever and the aches that were his waking mantra never ceased. If this is what strength felt like, then Noctis was beginning to wonder if he wanted it.

“What did you think of my gift?” The man’s voice broke his thoughts and before Noctis could shoot out a quip, he bit his lip. This wasn't Ignis or Gladio. This was his... 

“It was…” _Demeaning_? _Insulting_? _Terrible_? “Thoughtful.”

“Then put it on.” Noctis winced at the words, glancing at the shining golden of his new accessory. He hated it. With every fiber of his being. He _hated_ it.

The brace itself was a cage.

As far back as he could remember, his father wore a brace, and he didn’t know when, but the young prince began to associate that brace with the burden of his destiny.

“I-“

“That’s an order from your commanding officer.” There was something in Noctis that rebelled at the words. _An order?_ He was the prince, he didn’t listen to orders. But still, he had asked for this, _hadn’t he_? The prince slowly turned and walked over to the bench.

His knee was tight and the joints were sore—too sore to bend. As he sat down, splaying his leg out, he chewed on the inside of his cheek—a familiar habit, something he’d done constantly during these training sessions to keep himself from screaming. His split lip was chewed raw and the palms off his hands were littered with fingernail scabs.

Drautos walked over, smirking as he slowly rolled up Noct’s pants.

“I can do it myself,” Noctis stated, pulling his leg away with a slight hiss of pain. Drautos raised his brow and smirked, snatching at the leg.

“Come now, a prince has his attendants for a reason.” He muttered, his voice thick with loathing. Noctis didn’t argue again, looking away—hoping that maybe if he was quiet, it would limit the pain. His leg was skeletal but his knee was bulky, thick with inflammation and bruises. The captain took the brace, smirking at the design.

“I designed this myself.” He stated, almost tender in the way he caressed the material, swiping his fingers over the details. “For the king wears Bahamut, but you are not worthy of wearing the draconian. Instead, a princeling like you should have the weakest astral—your beloved Carbuncle.” He grinned, slowly working the brace up the Prince’s leg.

Every time the freezing metal brushed his skin, he shuddered and looked away.

Every time he looked away, Drautos would jerk the brace roughly.

Finally Noctis stared at Drautos’ face, the scars and frown lines that were etched into his skin. His cold eyes that were line by lashes like dead tree branches framing the blue sky.

The metal found its place and Noctis shivered, hating the touch of this foreign material.

“Don’t worry,” Drautos grinned, situating the brace firmly against his milky skin. “I included something very special in this brace.” Noctis looked down, frowning. He hadn’t looked closely at the contraption. He threw it across the room and only agreed to bring it when Drautos demanded he do so.

Suddenly something pierced his skin. It twisted and Noctis tried to pull away but Drautos was holding him there.

“You see, these screws are made from the crystal itself. As the captain of the kingsglaive I am allowed to do this—of course. You need to start connecting with the crystal.” With each word, the screw was tightened into his skin, the prince finally broke out of his mind, feeling the agony radiate through every muscle and every tendon in his knee.

He screamed, jerking around and kicking at the captain with his weakened strength. It did nothing, the captain smirked, he was used to him fighting back and Drautos loved that stubborn streak. He reached out with his spare hand and grabbed Noct’s arms, gathering them together and holding them above his head. The prince continued to struggle, but it was abundantly clear he couldn’t escape.

Then he felt it.

The crystal screw hit his bone and all around him the sounds dimmed. The prince felt his vision swallowed by darkness and pain shot out through every nerve of his body. The screams escaped him faster than he could breathe and somewhere in his mind he wondered if anyone could hear him scream. _If anyone would come and help him._

“No one is coming,” Drautos smiled as he pat the screw, shooting a jolt of agony up and hummed in the space under his ribs. There was no magic producing organ, but Noctis liked to imagine there was a little pouch under his ribs. That is where he drew his powers. But now, it felt like it would burst. It was too full, too much pressure that it leaked through his eyes and pierced his brain in thousands of different places.

“No one can hear you, _Prince_. Even if they could, they wouldn’t help, after all, I had this approved with the king.” Noctis couldn’t believe those words—and in the moments while Drautos searched for the second screw, the prince began to cry.

“D-dad…?” He struggled to get the words out, it felt like he’d bitten into metal and been electrocuted. How could his father do this to him? Without his knowledge?? His tears fell freely, the prince going limp in Drautos’s hold. His mind was gone and through pain he felt himself drifting into unconsciousness. And in the darkness he heard that haunting voice:

“This is for your own good Noctis.”

“I am making you perfect.”

“I’m making you worthy.”

~ ~ ~

Noctis woke up, blood tacky against his skin against his knee and running from his lips. He lay on the bench, body positioned on it’s side. His world spun and as he moved, he felt the pinch of a needle in the crook of his arm.

Again.

Again.

Drautos always did this. Worked him until he passed out. Beat him till he was unconscious. Then filled him with this poison.

His jaw felt like it had been wired shut and the prince didn’t try to move again, just feeling the blood and the shots of agony that stained every moment he was awake. It felt like his entire body as filled with pressure and magic.

_What had Drautos done to him…?_

The captain was smoking in the training room, glancing over when Noctis began to stir.

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you.” He growled dangerously, and the prince knew that voice—knew the danger that lurked there, but he didn’t know what to do. He heard his body make out a broken noise, words slurred and eyes glazed over.

_Why couldn’t he speak? He could think just fine! But his body… What had Drautos done to him?_

“I have things to attend to, but we’ll see each other shortly,” He growled softly, and the prince tried to respond but nothing came out. It was like a predator had cornered him, and every fiber of his body wanted to fight against it, but there was nothing he could do. His heart slammed against his chest—against the pressure of the magic that was welling inside of him.

The captain walked over, pulling the I.V. out and packing up his tools. He tapped the brace, grinning dangerously. He stopped himself, leaning down to brush his hardened knuckles across the prince’s soft cheek. The prince’s mouth was open in a pretty little ‘o’ clearly desperate and frantic. He let out a tiny noise and Drautos felt his body react before his mind could.

His body hungered for something that no meal could satisfy as he watched the prince’s eyes glow violet and pink—filled with unharnessed magic.

Drautos had done that. Filled the child with more magic than he could possibly handle — which had made him nothing more than another crystal. A walking crystal.

“Pretty, pretty Prince. Your advisor will be by soon.” He saw the panic in the boy’s eyes and laughed out loud. Cold and hollow. He leaned down and followed the heat of his body, pressing his lips heavily against the prince’s soft little shell-lips. His tongue was hungry and the boy prince could do nothing but lay there, eyes widening and breath coming in petrified little pants. When Drautos was done, he pulled back, his grin impossibly hungry as his hand landed on Noct’s crotch.

“Don’t go telling your butler about this.” His voice was teasing—deep and thick with cruelty. “Oh wait…” His laughter was fuller now as he turned and disappeared out of the room leaving the prince swimming with fear, confusion.

Tears began to drip down his cheeks, each one hard and clinking into little crystals. _Ignis_ , was all his desperate mind could think, _I made a mistake._


	10. Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter. Funny thing, Im still trying to figure out whats happening in this fic XD I'm debating between Drautos and Ardyn~

He got the message as he was looking over Noctis’s Glacian Gala suit. He dusted at the dark material, smiling tenderly, imagining his beloved prince in the ebony suit. It had a little caplet and silver detailing that arched across his back and body in the form of antlers. It had a little train to it too, that draped across the floor as he walked. He would look as lovely as the Glacian herself.

Ignis smiled softly, glancing up from his work as his phone chimed softly from the countertop. He swept of to it, recognizing the crownsguard chime instantly.

Unknown number: Your dear Princeling needs saving.

There wasn’t a photo. There wasn’t anything, But Ignis was up, bursting towards the door. He knew where he was going before his mind could catch up, snatching up the car keys and his jacket as he frantically struggled with the doorknob. Finally opening the door, the poor advisor was too lost in his distress to notice Prompto, who had been trying to work up the courage to knock.

The poor kid hadn’t heard from the prince in a month and in his arms he held a little get-well package that spilled all over the floor as he was knocked down. A fat cactuar plush landed amongst chocolate confections and the latest RPG game. Small bottles of pop fizzed against the ground, along with a handmade card shaped like a Chocobo. Ignis blinked in shock, staring at the young blonde who scrambled to collect his gifts.

“I-I heard that Noc—Prince Noctis wasn’t feeling well so I thought, maybe a get well package would help!” He stammered out, trying to get all the words out before Ignis asked him to leave.

“It’s fine.” Ignis snapped, unable to control the tone of his voice. He needed to _hurry_ , but he took pity on the boy who flinched at the anger lying in Ignis's words. He quickly knelt, taking the time to help the prince’s friend collect the fallen items and shove them inside the apartment before locking the door. He didn't look back but knew that Prompto was following him. 

The young boy looked hurt by how Ignis had treated him.

“Ignis?” Was his anxious whine.

“Noctis is in trouble. You may accompany me as long as you do not get in my way.” He snapped back, green eyes holding daggers within them. Prompto had never seen him so intense, but he was quick to follow behind him.

 _Noctis was in trouble?_ Noctis was never in trouble—well that wasn’t true he was _always_ in trouble— but never the kind of trouble that made Ignis see daggers—never the kind of trouble that made Prompto worry. Although he still worried.

He took off towards the garage, and soon Ignis had to jog to catch up to the blonde. If Ignis was worried, then he was worried too. Nothing worried Ignis—nothing _should_ worry Ignis.

“Where is he?” Prompto asked as they both climbed into the sleek car, Ignis jamming the keys in place. When that recieved no response, the blonde frowned. “Ignis, what happened?”

“Now is not the time for questions.” Ignis snapped back, silencing the shaking blonde. The young man bit his thumb, buckling himself in as he chewed on the cuticle. Finally, deciding not to be useless, Prompto pulled out his phone and began to text, his thumbs a blur against the screen. Ignis shot a look over, frowning slightly.

“Who are you texting?”

“Noctis. And Gladio.” Ignis raised a brow as they peeled out of the garage, making Prompto yelp and cling to his seat. “Ignis! We can’t help Noctis if we’re dead!”

“Then we better not die.” Ignis snapped back and the car filled with the tense silence of deep panic.

~ ~ ~

Ignis burst into the kingsglaive training room, eyes looking around blind with panic.

He had told Prompto to check the crownsguard room, even though Ignis knew where Noctis would be. The advisor didn’t know what state he would find the prince in and with his already frayed nerves didn't believe himself capable of handling a distressed Prompto.

When he rushed into the training room, his heart stopped. It was like some cheesy image out of a fairytale, the light pouring through the windows far above, filtering through the dust and dirt that rose from the floor. On a bench to the side of the door, the prince lay on his side, eyes closed with blood trailing from his lips down his cheeks. Some of the sunlight clipped his cheek, highlighting bruises where muscle used to be.

With his pale, hollowed cheeks, he looked like death.

Ignis took one step, then another, forcing his body to move forward. Panic and duty waged war inside of him. He knew that he needed to check, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk Noctis being hurt. If he didn’t know, then there was still a possibility that Noctis was sleeping—that the text had been a joke. But that was foolish thinking.

He finally made his way to Noctis, kneeling next to him. His hands were steady, and he thanked his training—thanked the first aid courses that he took religiously every two years. His heart was in his throat, but outside, his duty for Noctis made him prim and still.

First thing is first.

His fingers find the pulse that hums weakly in Noctis’s throat, and with that, the advisor lets out a shaky breath.

“Alright…” He whispered, moving down to examine the rest of Noctis. He saw the bulge on the knee, and his mind flew to the brace. The visceral reaction Noctis had to the object made Ignis sour. He felt wrong touching Noctis while the young man was clearly in no state to respond. He could tell that simply by the sluggish pulse and the lack of response.

Noctis was a heavy sleeper, but if someone touched him, he had enough training to wake up. Still, he had a duty, so he tugged up the pant of Noct’s sweatpants — which had grown far too big for Noct’s own good.

His stomach rose when he saw the bloody screws that impaled Noct’s soft, milky flesh. The way they twisted the flesh in ugly spirals and pinned it down. He didn't know how deep the damage went, but for a brief moment, he was thankful that Noctis was unconscious. It was only the gentle brush of his willowy finger against one of the screws that caused the prince to shriek—a noise so sudden that Ignis jerked back, eyes widening in fear.

“Noctis! I'm sorry, heart. I'm right here...” He trailed off as he found himself at the prince's side again. The Prince’s eyes weren’t open. The guttural scream had wrenched itself from Noctis’s unconscious and that scared Ignis even more.

Perhaps it was luck or chance that made Ignis prick his finger on the broken end of a needle that sat in the crook in the crook of Noct’s elbow. Ignis didn’t know if he should thank or curse the astrals as he delicately removed the little stem, applying pressure to the wound where blood soon spotted.

The young advisor felt helpless, heart hammering against his chest because even with all his training and all his wisdom, he felt helpless as he tried to figure out what could have lead to Noctis in this state. And the only thing he could think of was it was his fault.

“Oh, Majesty…” He murmured delicately like snow as he bowed his head, allowing their foreheads to touch. He felt the guilt pooling deep in him.

He had allowed this to happen.

He should have tried harder.

He should have fought back against Drautos and how the man swooped into the prince’s life like a bird of pray.

He should have tried to challenge Noct’s deluded ideas of strength.

But he hadn’t… he had _failed_ Noctis in a way that he never imagined he would. His lips gently pressed against the bridge of the prince’s nose.

“I’m sorry.” He felt a crack in his voice, and it matched the cracks he felt inside. _It’s my fault_. That is all that Ignis could think as he took in the damage that he’d allowed. He was supposed to protect the prince from others and from his own decisions. There was so much the prince had yet to learn, and Ignis knew better.

 _He knew better_!

He should have told someone when he realized that Noctis was in danger, but he didn’t. He was cowardly—but if he told the king now…

No. Whatever punishment came his way was well deserved. Ignis bit his lip, still holding the prince’s cold hand. Too cold. He massaged little circles, wincing when he felt the cuts against his palms. How could he have allowed things to get this bad?

Ignis’s phone chimed then, and while he longed to ignore it, he felt like it was a lifeline. Perhaps Gladio messaging him, or even Prompto.

But as he opened the device, his eyes narrowed, feeling the guilt sour into rage.

Unknown Number: Too late again

Unknown Number: Perhaps next time you'll keep the prince under lock and key

Unknown Number: If there is a next time

Unknown Number: You've made it too easy, thank you for your assistance

The young advisor shook his head, pain burrowing its way through his veins—an unwelcome guest that made him want to scream. He took a screenshot of the messages, taking a deep breath before he dialed a long forgotten number. The other side picked up immediately, and Ignis found his voice with a strange tremble in it.

“Uncle… I need you to send Clarus and the marshall to my location immediately. The prince is in danger, and I believe him to be poisoned.” Ignis swallowed heavily, breathing through his mouth in deep gulps. He had to tell the truth. “And I believe I am to blame.”


	11. Who's to Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp! Another chapter! I wanna get to the exciting stuffs and my friends have been helpin me so much! I cant wait to show yall what I have planned ;)

Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio stood, backs against the wall, watching the chaos that ensued following Ignis’s call. The advisor had sent short texts to his friends—unwilling to admit that he needed their support when likely he would soon be relieved of his position.

Clarus Amicitia stood as a beacon of strength in amongst the shouting and clamor, he strode around the training room with purpose, yelling at the crownsguard to take pictures of this, or to collect samples of that.

Ignis vaguely wondered how they must look—the three of them—standing by the wall, useless, like scolded children.

When the king entered the room, the clamor dimmed, and Ignis felt the guilt race through his veins in a nauseating path to his stomach. He’d always admired the king, as someone who exuded strength and helped to raise him alongside his uncle. One of his first memories—a precious thing that Ignis clung to—was of Regis’s smile, warm and welcoming as he stood above a small round boy. He remembered how warm the king looked in his black reignment, how his smile lit up the room and how his hands were gentle and firm as they introduced Ignis to his prince.

But now, the king was not smiling. His eyes were cold cut steel and terrified as he looked around the room. Ignis could smell the ozone that crept into the air—rich with magic and fear. Hesitance. Anxiety. The king had nearly lost his son once, and now seeing him surrounded by doctors again brought back the guilt and disgust at himself for not being a better father. He moved quickly over to the gurney, quiet as the medics gently loaded the unconscious prince onto the soft padding.

Gladiolus watched his father, trying to memorize the way he commanded the men. This is what a true shield looked like—and he wasn’t one. Not after allowing Noctis to suffer the way he was. He loathed to recall the times that his father had been this scared—when his mother died, when Noctis was comatose, and when he’d gotten the scar on his face.

But even now, he didn’t let it show, voice firm and direct as he ordered the glaives to collect any evidence. This is what he should have been doing. Even now, when Regis is grieving, Clarus was supporting the king, taking his hand and guiding him out of the way of the doctors. He was both—strict but delicate. He knew his king and that gave him the strength to do what was necessary.

“Boys.” The shield flinched when he saw the short stature of the Marshall enter the room. Cor the Immortal—he commanded attention, demanded respect, and held a hand in all of the boy’s lives. Immediately, Cor moved beyond them and over to the gurney, hand gentle on Noctis’s head. Cor’s voice was soft, delicate as he pressed his lips to the prince’s ears.

 _Could Noctis hear him_?

 _Was Noctis even aware of the situation he was in_?

Gladiolus hoped for his prince’s sake that he had been asleep when the screws were put in.

Ignis told him about the modifications. About how Noctis screamed when even the lightest thing touched them. They’d made sure Prompto didn’t see, but Gladio remembered the way Ignis clung to the prince’s arm, how the warm light couldn’t hide the green pallor of his skin.

The Marshall was gentle as he placed a hand on Regis’s shoulder—telling him he would be okay. He was Noctis’s godfather after all, a position that few knew about. Gladio remembered hearing the men drunkenly laughing together—Clarus and Regis teasing each other:

_“Why don’t you leave baby Noctis to me, Reggie!” Clarus and growled in that deep voice of his that reminded the younger shield of camping trips and ghost stories by the fire._

_"Because in no world am I dead before you.” Regis had slurred back and although the wording was rough, the sentiment was there_.

Gladio continued to watch Cor now, remembering in earlier years when he’d called him Uncle Cor, but since joining the crowns guard that title had faded. He knew Cor doted on Iris—that there were soft patches in the otherwise hardened man, but still, seeing him so gentle with Noctis, it was like he was intruding on a personal moment.

Cor pulled back, allowing the doctors to return to their work. He surveyed the room and his eyes locked on the three men—who looked beyond scared.

“Outside.” His glare directed at all three men, voice carrying over the cacophony of the room. “Now.” The three men filed outside quickly, Prompto shaking as he looked back at Cor. Gladio almost rolled his eyes—recalling that Cor was ALSO Prompto’s legal guardian. It’s like Cor was part of all their lives. It was a little unsettling, but reassuring at the same time. Cor the Immortal would be able to help them.

Cor lined them up in the courtyard, the Marshall walking back and forth in front of them like a disgruntled behemoth, ready to pounce given the slightest chance.

“Explain to me how the Crown Prince of Lucis—no—Your _friend_ is unconscious, poisoned, and severely injured—under your watch!” He snapped and all three men were straightening their shoulders, puffing out their chests. His eyes looked over them, reading their faults as if it were a report.

“Scientia, start.” He ordered and the young advisor stiffened.

“Yessir. I am to blame for this. I allowed his—“

“Did you poison him?” Ignis flinched back, screwing his poised lips up in disgust.

“Of course not! I would never endanger Noct’s life!”

“Did you screw his brace into place with crystalline screws?”

“So that’s what made Noctis scream…”

“Whoa you’re saying Noctis is like… stuck in the metal thing?”

“That’s messed up.” All three men chimed at once, their hearts bleeding together for the sake of their soon to be King. Cor sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Amicitia, did you take a shift watching the crystal.” Gladio stiffened, eyes narrowing but he couldn’t quite grasp the implication.

“Yeah, what about it.” Cor shook his head, looking over at Ignis.

“Scientia, did you neglect to report the prince’s wellbeing.” The man bristled, shooting a withering glare at the Marshall before he could regain control of himself. He remained silent, trying to determine what to say and how to say it correctly.

“What are you trying to say, Sir?” Gladio asked in an angry rumble, his hackles raising as he stared at Cor. The Marshall glared back, his gaze equally dark.

“He’s saying… he believes we are to blame for Noct’s current state.” Ignis breathed out the words, catching the tremble at the end of his sentence. “Am I correct in that assumption.”

“You’ve always been too smart for your own good,” Cor replied, letting out another heavy sigh. He glanced over as paramedics raced Noctis’s gurney away from the training room. For a brief moment, the young Marshall felt something stir in him. Fear? He had schooled his fear years ago—learning that it did little to dwell on things so trivial. But Noctis looked so small under the blankets. Regis looked so scared, leaning against his shield. “You three should be protecting him. There will be times when you cannot, but while he is young and foolish, you two especially, should help him.” Cor dragged his eyes back to the wilted young men and in his heart, past the fear and anger that meddled with his rational thought, he knew—knew that Gladio, Prompto and Ignis could not have hurt Noctis.

“Scientia.” The Marshall called, startling the young man again. “Tell me everything. No opinions or emotions. Tell me the facts and tell me who did this to Noctis.” The advisor looked slightly relieved—blame was something he could assign.

“It was Captain Drautos, sir,” Ignis said, shoulders squaring and eyes firming with the resolve that Cor knew the young man had. “He’s been poisoning the prince for nearly a month now.”

“Noct—His Highness ordered us not to tell anyone,” Gladio added, knowing that Ignis would gladly take the fall for his prince. “Sir, I believe we have a rat in the citadel."

~ ~ ~

Regis sat in his chambers, steel eyes steady on the rise and fall of Noctis’s chest.

“He’s safest here.” Regis insisted, when they tried to take Noctis to the city hospital. “Whatever he needs, we can bring it here.”

And that was the end of that discussion.

The king now stared at his son, wondering how long he had looked this sickly. _Was he sick when Regis cancelled the dinner_? _Had he come looking for help? Had Ignis truly hidden up this much illness?_ It didn’t seem plausible but Regis remembered the folder from Drautos. His son was depressed and he had left him in the hands of his advisor. Ignis was hardly more than a child himself! He should have intervened.

“Noctis, I fear I will never forgive myself for this.” He admitted with a weak laugh to the still figure lying like a forgotten doll in the king’s large but rather empty bed. His hand reached out and lightly brushed the fringe out of Noctis’s face. “I do not know who has hurt you so egregiously, but on my word, they _will_ pay.” He swore and the rage cloaked the room for a second—a buzzing filling Regis’s ears so loud he didn’t hear the knocking.

“Majesty?” Drautos called, stepping into the room. His face was distraught as he moved forward at a clipped pace, standing just beside his king. “What happened?”

“I do not know, Titus,” Regis whispered truthfully. “I thought I was helping Noctis by giving him space… I thought… But now… the doctors say that he’s taken drugs… a-and this level of malnourishment doesn’t simply happen overnight! The doctors have given him medicine to counteract the drugs, but it’s not working.” His voice was low enough that only Drautos could hear the cracks in his composure. “I did this… I pushed him away when I should have held him close. I was a fool, Titus.” The captain nodded gently along with Regis’s words, eyes flickering over Noctis.

“I am sorry my liege… I cannot believe that his advisor would commit such a crime—“

“What do you mean?”

“… You didn’t know?” Drautos watched the king’s face flicker with thousands of emotions, not knowing which one to settle on. “The Argentum kid has been slipping Noctis stuff for ages, Scientia knew but… well he admitted he simply did not want to intervene. And the Amicitia boy… he’s beaten Noctis nearly to death in their training sessions.”

“… I thought…” Regis looked down at his hands, clenching them into fists. He wanted to blame someone. Wanted to hunt down the bastard that hurt his son but he was a king and knew that simply attacking without cause would get him nowhere. He trusted Titus—but he also trusted Clarus’s son and Ignis. They were dutiful and loyal and simply imagining Ignis shirking his duty for anything less than Noctis’ wellbeing—it just didn’t add up. And most importantly, he trusted his son. If Noctis trusted these men, then Regis would too.

No, he was the one who Noctis came to a month ago. He wasn’t great at asking for help, but he came. It was Regis’s fault that he hadn’t done anything at the time.

“Thank you Titus… could you send Cor in?” Regis asked softly, feeling the beginnings of doubt to worm their way through his bonds. Titus Drautos, the man he trusted to command the Glaive—was he lying?

“Yessir. But I wanted to suggest we call for Lady Lunafreya.” Regis’s brow rose, glancing at his son who had begun to sweat with fever. The Oracle would be able to heal Noctis without question.

“She is in the empire’s hands,” Regis commented back—he still felt guilty for the death of the young oracle’s mother.

“Perhaps we can call a truce for a moment, if you’re interested I can begin drafting a letter.” Regis nodded immediately, clasping his hands together.

“Please. Anything to get Noctis better.” Drautos nodded, patting the grieving king before sweeping out of the room. He shut the door gently, smirking to himself when he felt two dagger-like eyes upon him. He turned, pulling himself up to his full height in front of the smaller man.

“Marshall, the king requested your presence.” Drautos smiled, warping his joy into something soft and sorrowful. “He is clearly distressed.”

“Well, if someone you trusted hurt your family, I’m sure you would be distressed as well. Excuse me.” Cor stated, shoving by the captain and entering the room.

Drautos felt the moisture leave his mouth but he was had sewn the seeds of doubt into the king’s mind. Even the immortal would have trouble providing any evidence that linked back to him.

The captain took a moment, licking his lips as he pictured Noctis’s frail body under those black satin sheets and relished in the image of his undressed and unconscious. His mind could only wander so far.

Noctis wasn’t his, not for long anyways.

No, Noctis would serve a different master soon enough.


	12. Lady Lunafreya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunafreya arrives with a man of no consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am sorry if this chapter is not as good as my others. It was really hard to write and I just wanted to continue the story. I promise the next one will be better.

“I’d like to introduce the Chancellor of Niflhiem, Ardyn Izunia, and the esteemed Oracle, Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae.”

Regis was still, sitting on his throne with an empty pit where his heart should be and the thickness of guilt weighing heavily in his stomach.

It took two weeks for the decision to be finalized. For Niflhiem to agree to the Oracle's presence in Insomnia. Regis didn’t care that he had to beg. He was steady in his resolve and would do damn near anything for his son. Noctis—unfortunately—had not yet come to his senses. He lay in Regis’s bed—the room having temporarily been converted into a hospital room. There was an I.V. in his arm—where Regis had finally seen the track marks—proof that Noctis may not have taken drugs willfully. He cursed himself for ever believeing those lies of Noctis taking drugs. He knew his son--knew that he wasn't the kind of person to do that. Yet he'd allowed himself to doubt. That was scary.

His vigil over his son had been constant. Sometimes Noctis opened his eyes, and the blinding pink of the astrals affliction shocked the king. He’d learned of the crystalline screws in his son’s knees, and that knowledge only increased the fear that blossomed in him. The crystal was strong, and demanded strength from its host. Noctis was powering the crystals in his leg—essentially turning himself into a living battery.

Of course Regis had tried to remove the screws, but even with sedation, Noctis’s screams had been too much. Even when Regis ignored that, when Regis ordered the doctors to remove those foreign objects, magic would shock them back.

For the time being, Noctis would have to be left as a mortal generator.

Regis felt disgust at himself whenever he couldn’t remain by Noctis’s side. After hearing from Cor, he truly didn’t know what to think. But as much as he trusted Titus, Cor was beyond reproach. So when Regis was gone, Gladio and Nyx stood guard, with Ignis inside gently tending to his son.

Prompto—a young man that Regis had only recently had the pleasure of meeting—was always there. He refused to leave—saying it was a good excuse to miss his history exam. However, Regis saw the devotion and, dare he say, love in Prompto’s eyes.

Like burning circles of fire.

Drautos had ceded the decisions to Regis, but the monarch could see that Drautos was wary, always hanging around his chambers, spending time inside with Noctis. Regis couldn’t trust the captain anymore. He had the Marshall follow after him, trying to figure out his endgame before it was too late.

It appears “too late” had already arrived.

“Welcome, esteemed guests.” Regis called, voice booming and welcoming— something he had to force to flow through him. He stood to rise from his seat and found his leg shaking. He hid it easily though, grabbing his cane and descending from his throne.

He saw that young Luna had blossomed into a gorgeous woman and he smiled—seeing the late queen in the face of her daughter. She would be proud of the woman her daughter had become.

“Lady Lunafreya.” Regis called, leaning heavily on his cane as the Oracle moved forward and bowed before him. He shook his head, opening his arms and laughed softly as he felt her warm against his chest. “I fear it has been too long.”

“Time flies by, your majesty, but there will be time later for pleasantries. Is it true— Noctis is…”

“Quite ill I’m afraid.” Regis nodded sadly, pulling back lightly but not enough to let her go. “The astrals have my thanks for safely delivering you here to heal Noctis’ blight.”

“Yes, word has indeed spread of the crystalline prince.” Another voice invaded Regis’s warm moment and the King finally looked up at the other guest. He forced a smile, but it was pained. The chancellor of Niflhiem was a man full of mystery, his hair like stained wine over a face that held multitudes of secrets. Those golden eyes--like monsters in the night--pierced the king. Every fiber of his being rejected the being before him, but he kept up the pleasantries--focused on the ridiculous fashion choice, for it was hard to take the chancellor seriously when he looked like a coffee filter and curtain factory collided. 

“Crystalline Prince you say?”

“Indeed. Has the prince not become a part of the crystal?” Ardyn asked as he swept up, grinning dangerously, golden eyes filled with mirth.

“… His condition is not for public knowledge.” Regis replied darkly, but Ardyn failed to get the hint.

“To think, the chosen king is now part of the crystal itself!” Ardyn danced forward, his whirlwind of patterned fabric dancing all around him. Regis growled softly, only calming when he felt the delicate fingers of Luna on his arm.

“He was attacked, was he not?” She asked, delicate and pacifying. Regis nodded, taking her hand softly as he began to lead them towards his upper chambers.

"Indeed. Unfortunately we have not captured the culprit." Luna paled lightly holding onto the king with a little more force--whether she was trying to comfort or looking for support was unknown. Regis always was fond of the girl--especially so after she healed Noctis from death's bed. However, she was not like the other court women he saw chase after his bewildered son. She radiated her own strength and her own resolve. A determination and devotion that Regis found rare. It made his heart glow, knowing that she turned out okay despite his failure to protect her mother--it released a burden he didn't know he held.

The whistle of the uninvited guest reminded Regis once again that he had a rat following him. He wanted to snap at Ardyn—who trailed behind chattering endlessly about the carpet, the portraits, the prince, anything. However, the deal for Lunafreya’s arrival included that she be with the Niflhiem representative at all times.

They marched up the steps together, and Regis relaxed when he felt the comforting presence of his shield, appearing with a curt smile for the princess. Regis was hesitant again, afraid to open the door—to expose his failure as a parent and as a king. But he didn’t have to. Clarus was there, easing open the door and murmuring comfortingly to his liege.

“This isn’t your fault.” He whispered, but knew that his words didn’t have the impact they should have.

Ignis stood by the bed, with Gladiolus close to him. Prompto was dozing on the bed, tangled with the still body of the prince.

Lunafreya let out a soft gasp—she’d corresponded with Noctis over the years, but hadn’t seen him since they were but children.

“Noctis…” Her words were so soft and delicate that Regis couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Unfortunately dear, we are not sure if he can hear us.”

“We try to be quiet for the sake of decency.” Ignis explained, rising to bow slightly at the princess—but not as deeply as he would for his king. “Lady Lunafreya,”

“Ignis, it is a pleasure seeing you once again.” She smiled, moving forward to clasp his hand. Gladio bowed as well., and to that Lunafreya smiled delicately. “It is good to know that Noctis has dear friends to watch over him.”

“Not closely enough…” Gladiolus hissed his anger, trying to contain his deafening rage. Luna’s smile was full of empathy, as finally she moved beyond them and let out a tiny laugh as Prompto had splayed himself over his prince.

“So many friends.” She teased sweetly, stepping back as Gladio shook Prompto roughly.

“Get up.” He growled, voice resonating as the blonde quickly squirmed up, blinking and then letting out a terrified squeak as he saw his prestigious audience. He fell off the bed, and flushed to the warm laughter of everyone in the room. Luna finally sat down, hands gentle as she felt the skeletal body of her prince.

“We simply must stop meeting like this.” She scolded the prince full of tenderness. Her hands gently ran down the prince, eyes widening. “So it’s true… he is filled with the power of the kings…” Regis nodded solemnly. He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t surprised now that Luna had confirmed his fears.

“Is that what is keeping him asleep?”

“No… no, but it certainly doesn’t help.” She replied, sighing. “I should be able to wake him up.” She finally decided. The room was filled with relief, Regis smiling for the first time in what felt like years. The lines around his eyes crinkled in warmth. He didn’t notice the merlot haired man sweep forward until he was looming over the sleeping prince, dragging large knuckles across the prince’s cheeks.

“Truly, the gem of the crown city.” He grinned at his own joke, moving fingers up to grab at Noctis’s hair. Regis’s eyes flared and the arminger burst to life around him, making the ambassador raise his eyebrow. “Now now, your majesty, you wouldn’t want to insult the empire after we extended this offering of peace.” He said, but his voice held a threat and that is what made Regis release his swords. Gladio growled deeply and Arden finally released his hands from their place in the raven locks. “I was simply taking a look.” He told the shield with a patronizing pat on his cheek. Gladio snarled louder and Clarus had to bark at him to stop. Ardyn smirked, backing up and raising his hands. “I believe there are too many people in the room for the oracle to work her magic, might we have a little time alone to spend with his little majesty.” Ardyn’s voice was slime that sent chills down everyone’s spines but Regis couldn’t argue much. The empire had allowed Lunafreya to come. He waved his hand, a magical barrier surrounding the room.

“We will be waiting outside.” Regis warned him.

“I’m sure you will.” Ardyn replied with his smirk. Gladio opened his mouth to protest, but Clarus grabbed the shield by the scruff of his neck and force him out of the room. “There really is no need for such a barrier.” Ardyn chided.

“Precautions.” Regis repeated dangerously. “You can only leave through this door.” He pointed at the only door of the room. He glanced at Ignis and Prompto. “And Ignis will remain within the room.” Ardyn tipped his hat in agreement. Regis was resigned to leave his son alone—fear coiling in him.

“I’ll be back shortly, son.” He whispered to his only child, squeezing his hand tightly. “I love you, Noctis. I love you more than the moon in the sky and the land that we walk.” His love was devotion, his love with passion. “I’ll see you when you wake.” He promised before he began to make his way to the door.

Ignis nodded, standing behind Luna as the room fully emptied, leaving the three of them and the prince.

“How long should this take?” Ignis asked politely, smiling at the princess. She opened her mouth to answer, but it was Ardyn who clasped his hand around Ignis’s shoulders and replied.

“Why, no time at all, little advisor.” He grinned, shark teeth and danger. It was darkness that washed over his vision and we he blinked he saw Lunafreya lying in Ardyn’s arms. “Some nap you took.” Ardyn chuckled, watching as Ignis scrambled up. He couldn’t remembered falling asleep, but he also couldn’t remember the last time he slept. Exhaustion had robbed his face of its youth, but when he looked at Noctis, he saw the prince breathing easier. “He should awaken any moment.” Ardyn smiled, turning towards the door. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ll be taking our leave.” The chancellor swept towards the door but Ignis hardly paid him any attention.

Noctis was healed.

He would be waking up.

Ignis let out a tiny little laugh.

“Thank you!” He called as the others rushed into the room—Clarus alone escorting Ardyn and the princess out of the citadel. “Thank you…”


	13. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake up ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this chapter is short again, but I just had to get this out. I dreamt about it excites me!

Have you ever felt pure panic—horror that runs through you and chills your blood to ice?

When you fall asleep and awake to find that the sky is still full of velvet darkness—that the morning hasn’t come.

Ignis had some vague memories of horror. When he was a young child, he recalled sitting quietly in his lessons, legs swinging under the solid wood chair as the tutor droned on in front of him. Words that little Ignis could hardly recall now.

Then the siren—the shouts and screams as the crowns guards rushed by.

He remembered the feeling of the old tutor’s hands as they wrapped around his wrists and pulled him towards the safe room.

Ignis went—eyes wide when he saw the still youthful king run out—a flurry of capes and metal and royalty.

Ignis would be told later that Noctis had been attacked.

That he was the only survivor.

He would be told that his uncle had to talk him down from a panic attack.

He would be told later, that Noctis was lucky to survive.

He was in his old room, sleeping soundly in his bed for the first time in a while.

He still had the hints of doubt, but before he’d finally retired to bed he saw Noctis’s eyelids flickering and him stirring gently in the large bed. He wanted to protest—wanted to argue when Clarus told him to get some rest but he saw the look on the King’s face.

He tucked away his uncertainty and bowed his head. Prompto was asleep in one of the guest rooms—Gladio was probably pacing around his own room like a pent-up behemoth.

None of them could really relax until they saw Noctis awake and alert—but still, with all the sleepless nights, Ignis found himself asleep in his bed.

It was the siren again that woke up Ignis, that chilled his blood and froze his bones.

He shot out of bed—blind with panic. Blind with fear.

His panic drove him, bursting out of his room in only his nightshirt and briefs as he ran down the halls of the citadel.

He knew that sound—it still haunted his dreams. He knew what it meant when the citadel was filled with that ringing sound. There was rarely a need to alert everyone—there was rarely a need for the king to awaken at most threat levels.

So when that siren filled the citadel, it could only mean one thing.

Ignis barreled into Gladio who was wearing moogle boxers.

Perhaps in a different time, Ignis would have teased him—but not now when he saw the terror in his expression, the blind panic that also ran within him. The two of them sprinted through the hoard of guards—past the shouting glaives and without hesitation into the king’s chambers.

Clarus stood next to Regis, holding his shoulders. He was out of the bed, face flushed and teary.

“Where is my boy?” He whispered like a cracked shell of the gentle monarch he was.

Ignis turned his attention from the king, feeling like his eyes were in tunnels—dark around the edges. The sound filtered through water and sounded hollow as he saw—laying in the bed where Noctis had laid for so long—Lady Lunafreya.

His heart stopped, the echoing got louder. He felt hands on his shoulders and arms—holding him up, but he couldn’t tell who.

Noctis was gone.

His mind flickered back to Ardyn—how the man had walked out with Luna in his grasp. He had been so foolish so… so stupid!

Because now he realized, with the sickening pressure of vomit rising like a burning tide in his throat, that he had allowed the chancellor of the enemy kingdom to leave with his entire world in his arms.


	14. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: DEPRESSION AND THAT TYPE SHIT   
> How to Break a Prince

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay! I was cosplaying yesterday! <3

Noctis didn’t know how long he’d been in this limbo—awake, but not really awake. He couldn't move his body, couldn't close his eyes. He knew that there was a wire through his nose that fed things into his stomach. He knew that there were bags for his waste--that he was living in the most basic definition of the word. 

_Was he dead?_

He lay in his father’s bed for so long—he couldn’t really think beyond, _was he dead_?

The scenery had changed now, he stared at metal roofing, feeling the rumble of an engine somewhere far below him. _What was going on…?_ His thoughts were still sluggish and his body ached from lack of movement.

He licked his lips, feeling the dry, flaky skin come off—

He licked his lips.

His eyes flew open, repeating the action. He hadn’t been able to do that before. His new surroundings temporarily forgotten, the crown prince tested his extremities, able to wiggle his socked toes and the slightest trembles in his fingers. He felt the his face stretch into a hesitant smile. _Was he better?_

Further investigating found that he couldn’t sit up, but he was still proud. Still hopeful.

He was going to tell Ignis what happened—all that happened. He’d banish the prickles of fear that laced his half-sleep state — the way Drautos had touched him, not just in anger—but in lust. How Drautos had beaten him—cut him in places that Ignis would never see. Hurt him in ways that could be explained away as accidents. Noctis would tell Ignis he had lied—that he had been _scared_. Noctis bit his lip, trying to bring himself away from the past, away from the self-loathing that attempted to drown him.

 _This was strength,_ he encouraged himself. This was inner strength—the kind that his father always spoke of. He would tell Ignis. Ignis would understand. Ignis would make him feel safe and warm and kiss his nose and hair. He would be safe. He would be strong.

Noctis heard a door open nearby and he opened his eyes again, scanning the limited view he got from his back.

“Noct.” The prince relaxed as he heard the familiar voice of his advisor, smiling sweetly. Of course it was Ignis—his loyal friend—who would be the first by his side. Ignis approached and Noctis could see just the edges of his face—the knife like portfolio of the man he lo— _liked a lot._ “You’re awake. Can you hear me?”

The prince let out a little sound—his throat dry and damn near useless but the sound he forced out seemed to make Ignis chuckle. Although the sound was off—Noctis still smiled again.

“Well then. I have some unfortunate news.” Noctis perked up at the words, eyes worried and narrowing. He heard the hesitance in Ignis's voice, and it made him tense.

He just needed to turn his head—to _see_ Specs. His breathing was coming easier now. Just _MOVE_! But he was rooted in his place. He let out a frustrated sigh and felt his body sink into the thick cot he was in. Maybe Ignis would tell him where he was. _Maybe he had to move. Maybe his father was busy._ Those were all okay. He smiled again, hope creeping in when—

“I am retiring from your services.” Noctis felt his blood run cold. His heart stop. His breath falter. _Retire? Why? No. It was a joke. A cruel, cruel joke Gladio put Ignis up to!_

“I was raised to be the advisor to a king and I just… see no point in continuing to advise the likes of you.” Noctis was shaking—a tremor deep in his bones that even his illness couldn’t halt. He was lying. He had to be. He had to be. Ignis was never supposed to leave him. Ignis was his friend. Ignis was his light! Ignis was…

“You’re… worthless.” The words floated out of Ignis’s mouth and Noctis choked, a broken sob coming from his lips as the corners of his eyes burned fiercely. He needed to say something. Needed to know why! _Why would Ignis do this, what had changed??_ He felt his advisor—former advisor—shift closer to him, felt his breath near his ear.

“I know you kissed Drautos. I know what you did with that man. I serve royalty—not a teenage _brat_.” The shifting happened again—Noctis’s own vision swirling above him in dizzying ropes of color. _Ignis was leaving him…?_ It wasn’t possible It wasn’t okay… It wasn’t… He wanted to choke, to scream.

“Farewell Noctis. Hopefully, someday you’ll be worthy of the title King of Light.” With that the door opened, closed, and his world seemed to fade to gray.

The pain he felt was nothing—just numb throbbing somewhere far away. His heart chased after a rhythm it couldn’t find, pounding in his wrists and in his ears. A tide of grief washed over him, and he cried.

Quiet, raindrop tears that ran down the sides of his face—the pooled in his ears. Snot ran from his nose, messing with the tube that fed down his throat.

_Ignis was gone._

_Worthless_.

Hadn’t Noctis done all this to get stronger? To be worthy?

But… he’d failed.

He’d failed his father, and now Ignis as well.

He felt bile churn in his hollow gut and some distant part of him was scared of choking on the vomit. But the part of him aware—he secretly hoped it would.

He didn’t want to be awake. Didn’t want to feel anything.

He wanted to go back—reverse time—to tell Ignis all those weeks ago that something was wrong—that when he showered after training, Drautos would watch. That when they were sparring, the captain’s hands would linger on him too long.

He wanted to tell Ignis—months, years ago—that he was madly in love with him and that no passage of time seemed to dim that throb but now it was too late and Noctis was another helpless victim of time.

His breathing was loud in the room—an alarm going off, echoing in his head. Doctors came in—swarming. They smelled like antiseptic and it was cloyingly thick. They spoke to him, but he couldn’t hear what they said. He couldn’t make out that they wore red and white, rather than black. He couldn’t tell that he was somewhere far far from home. All he knew was that something deep in him had shattered—the remnants of his sanity were slipping—and his grief truly had no limit.

~ ~ ~

“So you left my _sister_ in the hands of that cowardly monarch and instead brought back his shadow of a prince?” The Prince’s voice was deep, heterochromatic eyes narrowed and fierce. The chancellor bowed, smirking at the former prince of Tenebrae.

“Dear Ravus, I hope you can understand that Noctis is vital to our plans.”

“And what plans are those?” Ravus snapped, turning on the advisor as he swept forward. Where Noctis was gangly and awkward, Ravus was poised and elegant—fierce and commanding like a true prince. He was aloof—somewhere unreachable and he looked down upon the world with unbridled disgust. He was a prince who had lost everything because of the Lucis Caelums and now their crown prince—the supposed Chosen one—was lying like a worthless pile of dirt in their imperial stronghold.

“Nothing that concerns one such as yourself, I can assure you.” Ardyn dipped into a mocking bow that only made Ravus’s scowl deepen.

“If my sister is involved, then I dare say I disagree.” The prince’s wintery looks chilled Ardyn—reminded him of someone from his distant past. A woman. He shook away the illusion and continued with his deep smile.

“Dear Ravus, your sister is safe, this I swear. However, young Noctis is extremely important pawn. After all, what do the Lucians have that we don’t.” Ravus wanted to snap back, but he held his tongue and thought for a moment. Thought of an answer that might end this moronic conversation.

“The crystal.” He finally decided, saying the word with as much disdain as his poised form would allow—which was a shocking amount.

“Exactly.” Ardyn clapped his hands as if awarding a small child. “They have the crystal—and unfortunately the astrals gave them alone the right to wield it. However, general Glauca gave the prince a gift. Now—our sweet little Noctis will be _OUR_ crystal.” Ravus scowled, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to follow along.

“What do you mean…? Noctis is the Lucian prince, giving him access to the crystal—this I already knew.”

“Yes yes, that’s hardly news.” Ardyn waved his hand in annoyance, his odd sleeves flaring out. “However, Noctis is now PART of the crystal. He is a fragment that has fallen off. He is a separate entity. He is… _ours_.” Ardyn relished the word as it rolled off his tongue, as it hung in the air. Noctis was their crystal, and Ardyn couldn’t wait to taint the pretty little light the kingdom of Lucis had tried so desperately to protect.


	15. Dear Song Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noctis's new home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOODNESS! Guys, this is what I started this fic to get to and now I'm a little nervous. I am worried about doing too much but also excited.

It happened in parts beginning with his senses quietly awakening one by one.

It was feeling that first returned—the tube that flowed from his nose down his throat and filled his stomach with… something. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to call it food. There was the now familiar pinch of a needle in his wrist. It was dripping something slowly into his veins—cool and viscous. It was weird, considering how hot the rest of his body was. There was something hot on top of him—warm and familiar. Course that itched his skin. A blanket. A few judging by the weight on his body. It wasn’t unpleasant—simply too warm.

He flicked his tongue out and lipped his feathering lips.

He was thirsty, his throat dry and chalky and he could taste the growth on his teeth from days unbrushed.

It was gross. He screwed up his nose, eyebrows squishing together as the royal part of him recoiled at his current state.

Then there were the sounds that crept in at the corners of his consciousness. The subtle drip and rustle of the I.V. bag that hung from its stand. The beep beep beep of a heart monitor. The volume was low—quiet and almost unheard. There was the low hum of an air conditioner. It buzzed and churned cold air into the room but it wasn’t enough, and soon the awakening prince was beginning to stir.

He found himself smiling—still in the period between awake and asleep when the waking world was but a dream.

So when his legs began to kick at the sheets that were holding him down sleepily—he didn’t even think twice. His limbs were heavy with something that he couldn’t put his finger on. Not that he tried, because when he opened his eyes and saw a ceiling that he’d never seen before, it all came rushing back to him in a shock of memories.

None of them he wanted. He didn’t want to remember the cruel edge in Ignis’s voice as he called him worthless. He didn’t want to think about Drautos’s hand on his crotch and how he continued to explore and touch Noctis’s body. He bit his lip, pulling himself back into the present, and finally, he opened his eyes.

For a moment the light was blinding—it stifled his vision, and he was left with darkness popping in his sight.

 _Where was he_? As his vision began to clear, he could see a canopy of white gauze above him, reminiscent to Lunafreya’s bedroom in Tenebrae. The veil was stirred lightly by the A.C. unit somewhere outside of his vision.

He blinked slowly, letting his head lazily fall to the side. There was the medical equipment. The tube in his nose kinked awkwardly as he adjusted himself weakly.

The room was small, with a tiny sitting area adjacent to the bed. A fire crackled warmly and vaguely made Noctis wonder why the A.C. was on. On a coffee table sat pastries and some warm liquid that had steam gently rising from the surface.

 _Food_.

His stomach rumbled in time with his thoughts and drool began to gather in his mouth. He could handle this. He thought, eyes turning towards the windows that were buffered by moth-like curtains. They were thick and full and the white fabric blended with the snow that fell just outside.

“Ah, are you awake?” Noctis turned slowly, unable to sit up. An arm cushioned his back, gently leaning him up and padding pillows behind him so that Noctis could sit up and see the man in front of him. The Chancellor of Niflhiem smiled at Noctis, pulling over a chair.

The prince frowned, not recognizing the man who now sat next to him. Ardyn glanced over his vitals, frowning when he saw the spike in oxygen intake. He pulled out a little mask and pressed it over Noctis’s nose and mouth. He worked the band over Noct’s head, smiling as he pulled back to view the sickly prince.

“Deep breaths, little prince.” Ardyn purred, his hands burrowing in the raven locks. Noctis frowned lightly, pulling away but his movements were still stunted. Ardyn’s hand followed him, digging into his scalp just enough that it was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“Don’t touch me.” He hissed softly, reaching up to touch the mask on his mouth. Well, he tried. He frowned when he pulled on his hands and found that softly padded cuffs were keeping him down. His eyes widened as he looked up at Ardyn and saw the older man smiling sadly down at the prince.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” Ardyn laughed with a tenderness that set Noctis on edge. The man pulled away, standing up to pour himself a cup of coffee. He was slow as he let the steaming liquid fill the china teacup. The aroma filled the room—reminded Noctis of Ignis. His eyes pierced with tears, looking away. He couldn’t swallow correctly—a lump filled his throat.

_“Come now, Noct. You need to learn to expand your pallet.” Ignis laughed softly, passing him a chipped mug. “Coffee is what the sophisticated drink.”_

“Your majesty?” The chancellor disturbed Noctis’ thoughts, making the boy take in a few more deep breaths.

“Who are you?” Noctis shot back—eyes narrowing as the man danced back to settle in his chair.

“Why, I am your new master.” Noctis froze, steel filling his vision as Ardyn took a slow sip of his brew. “But the public calls me Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflhiem.” He drank in the fearful face of the prince—who was at his mercy in the large bed.

“I don’t have a master,” Noctis growled back, raising one of his tailored brows.

“You do now,” Ardyn smirked back, setting his cup down. “Coffee?” He smiled, offering the cup to the prince. Noctis could see red at the edges of his vision—but he was too weak. He knew that even despite the few angry jerks he made against his restraints.

“I’ll pass.” He grits out, his breath fogging angrily in the plastic mask.

“Suit yourself.” Ardyn chuckled, shrugging gently as he continued to sip his coffee lazily. Noctis dug his fingers into his palms— a natural movement. He could still feel the scars from his time with Drautos.

“Where am I.”

“Niflhiem—Gralea to be specific.” Ardyn gestured around the room, grinning. “You are a peace offering to Niflhiem.” He smirked as he ran his fingers back into Noctis’ hair again. Noctis was still-- body vibrating with terror.

“What…” He choked out weakly, eyes dinner-plate wide. He couldn’t understand the words coming from Ardyn. He couldn’t comprehend what happened…

“You were injured—do you recall?” Noctis nodded dumbly as Ardyn tugged some of the blankets off the prince.

He showed Noctis his leg—the knee that had been pierced by the crystals. He could see the cracks in his flesh where crystal had formed underneath. He let out a choked scream. Panic was cloying his senses, eyes wide and horrified. He struggled harder, wanting more than anything to dispel the illusion.

He let out a frustrated gasp, eyes burning with pained tears when he realized that he couldn't free himself.

“Wh-What In THE SIX!?” Noctis screamed, his thrashing becoming increasingly desperate and frantic. “WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!?” He screamed, allowing some broken drops to run down his cheeks. Ardyn pats his leg gently, chuckling as if the prince’s fear was just a silly little joke.

“Oh dear—you sweet clipped raven—you are part of the crystal now. A little pocket of magic.” He teased, stroking the crystalline parts of the prince. “And Niflhiem suggested a way to end the war.” Ardyn continued forward till he could stare into those horrified sapphire eyes. He could see the beginnings of crystals that were forming in the prince’s eyes. He would eventually lose his vision—at least without Ardyn’s assistance. “We demanded you.” He purred, hand working his way up Noctis’ thigh and pressing his fingers over Noctis’ beating heart. It was like a fluttering sparrow—terrified and desperate. “‘ _Give us your crown prince, and we will rescind our forces._ ’ That is we offered to your daddy dearest. And lo and behold, he agreed.” The little color in Noctis’s face drained, his eyes dropping to his bedspread.

“No.” Ardyn frowned at the quiet refusal, Noctis raising his head. The prince was shaking his head delicately, something hardening in him. Ardyn sucked in a deep breath—relishing in the look of determination in the prince’s eyes. He would enjoy breaking him.

“No? You don’t think that your father would sacrifice you to save the entire kingdom?” Ardyn laughed but backed up an inch when he saw the deathly steel—the hardened king that Noctis was destined to become—staring back at him.

“No. Even though it’s wrong… even if others would die… Even if I’m nothing but a disappointment…” Noctis’s voice cracked at the end—breaking bitterly. “He wouldn’t sacrifice me.” Ardyn watched his resolve. It was ingrained in him, eyes watering, but when Ardyn caught them—the prince held it.

“Oh? So how do you suppose you came to be here?” Ardyn pressed, leaning his chin on his hand.

“I think you kidnapped me,” Noctis murmured, looking down at his crystalline skin. “And I think you ought to let me go home now, Izunia.” He growled dangerously, and the chancellor burst out into laughter.

“Oh dear—it appears our dear little songbird has an attitude.” Ardyn reached out and caught Noctis’ chin. “I will give you one chance to adjust that now.” Ardyn pulled the prince closer, seeing those beautiful eyes widen with fear and shaking with panic. He could try and be apathetic, but the prince was a bleeding heart and simply a child. “You are living in comfort because I have sought to give it to you. However, I will gladly take it from you if you continue to resist.” There was a moment for Noctis to think, eyes looking around—face scanning through hundreds of emotions before he landed on something that Ardyn couldn’t read.

The Prince smirked, swallowing heavily before spitting into his face.

“Eat ass, Izunia.” Noctis hissed, letting out a weak squeak as Ardyn dug his nails into the prince’s milky cheeks.

“Oh, I am so glad you choose the hard way.” Ardyn grinned deviously, pressing himself forward and tasting the prince’s bitter lips. “Thank you, dear songbird.”


	16. Niflhiem's Sword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niflhiem's Captives get a chance to talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all get a long chapter today! Lucky you! I um... Love writing this story? And I actually ALREADY HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER WRITTEN. A little Lunyx for all y'all! But I'm not posting it yet cuz I gotta study for a final now ;)  
> ALSO! I am just screwing around with Ardyn's powers. I know some of this isn't canon, but sue me. it's a fan fic XD

“Your majesty.” Noctis was miserable in his bed, eyes half-mast as doctors paraded in and out of his new accommodations. Ardyn hadn’t moved him yet, but the hungry way the chancellor watched him made the prince wary of his motivations—kind or otherwise.

This particular guest was someone he’d known in a distant past. The victory blonde hair that caught the wintery light cascading through the frost-crusted windows. The eyes that shined like finely polished gems. It was enough to make the prince look up, to pay attention once again.

“Ravus…?” Noctis whispered unsurely as the doctors hooked him up to another bag of liquid meal. That’s what Noctis thought of it—he remembered that at one point they had told him what it was called, but he forgot it. The former prince of Tenebrae sat down next to Noctis, staring at him with those hard dagger eyes that Noctis never learned how to read.

“Prince Noctis. It appears you will be staying with us for some time.” The little bit of hope that had awoken in Noctis sputtered a bit. _Would Ravus not help him_? He schooled his expression into apathy—cold and bratty. An expression he knew would piss Ravus off. _It certainly worked on Gladio_ , he thought bittersweetly. 

“It appears so.” He spat with all the arrogance he could muster. “You simply must give my compliments to the chef.” Noctis cocked a brow, smirking a bit before he let out a weak cough. He cursed his weak body internally, balling the sheets in his fingers. Ravus watched him, scowl deep and unmoving.

“The Astrals have blessed you—“

“Doesn’t feel like it—“

“ _If you were any healthier_ then you’d be down in your new chambers.” Ravus finished, getting louder. Noctis snorted, looking past Ravus and out the windows. He should be smart—that’s what… What _he_ would tell him. But _he_ didn’t matter anymore. So instead, bitterness fueling him, he sharped his verbal knife.

“At least I know Luna is happier now.” There was a single moment before Ravus lunged out, grabbing Noctis’s jaws, digging his fingers into the bruises Ardyn had gifted him on his first visit.

“What was that, Lucian scum?” Ravus rumbled, and something dangerous in it made the sickly prince tremble deep in his bones. “Have something to say?”

_Yeah._

_He really should be smart._

“Yeah. Kiss my ass, Ravus.” Noctis growled back, wanting to hurt Ravus—to hurt _someone_ when all he felt was betrayal and fear. “You claim to protect your sister, but I know how you’re treating her. The only person you’re saving is _yourself_. Luna would be ashamed of you.” Noctis found himself with a shark grin, digging the knife into Ravus’s back with every word he said.

The wintery prince stood up, pacing over to the fireplace. _He needed to calm down_. He was under orders—he couldn’t damage Noctis even when that was all he wanted to do. He wanted to kick him—break him. To slap that damned smile off his face and make him hurt in ways that the prince could only imagine. _Stop_. Ravus balled his fists, taking slow breaths. Luna would be ashamed of him. How he wished she was there to tell him that. He wanted more than anything to see his sister and ensure she was safe. No amount of reassuring would persuade him until he saw her in the House Fleuret.

But he wasn’t here to antagonize the younger prince—that he had to remind himself continuously.

“Do you understand your position?” He called, still staring at the crackling embers that flickered off the logs and sang with sharp pops in the air. They fizzled, and he found comfort in the way the fire moved. It was random—unpredictable, but he was still able to understand its randomness. He held out his hands—he never did get used to the Niflhiem winters. “I mean, truly understand.” He added, hearing Noctis about to answer hastily. That managed to shut Noctis up. _What a relief._

“…”

“Well then, shall I enlighten you?”

“If I have a choice, I’d rather enjoy the peace. Your voice reminds me of dying Coeurl.” Noctis called, mimicking the arrogant lit of Ravus’s voice.

“You’re going to be _broken_.” Ravus snapped, whipping around as he stalked over and ripped the sheets back, showing the crystalline parts of the prince. Noctis tried to reach out, to hide, but miserably gave up as the skin on his wrists chafed. “You are going to be used and broken, and here in Gralea you have nothing and no one.” Noctis’s eyes—like deep sapphires raged—with anger. He lifted his chin—like the king he was meant to be—remaining proud.

“Yeah, but I got family in Lucis—friends.” He hid the hitch in his voice. _He had friends_. Prompto and Gladio—two—plural. “I have a kingdom to rule, and I have someone to teach me how to do that. I may have nothing in Gralea, but you don’t have anything anywhere, Ravus.” The room was silent, wide eyes from the doctors stared at the exchange, some covered their mouths, others hurried out of the room.

Ravus was wordless—speechless. His anger colored his vision, made him see red as he stared at the cold prince. _He was right. The coward’s son was right._ Ravus was fighting for a kingdom that largely hated him—they loved the sister he would see locked in her chambers. _He just wanted her safe! Why couldn’t anyone else see that!?_ But in the end, if he disappeared—Lunafeya would be able to take over the kingdom. No one would be upset over his death and the words Noctis had fired like bullets found their marks.

But Ravus was a general—he spent his adolescence in war meetings and sparring with mechanical soldiers. While Noctis was raised safely in his citadel, Ravus learned how to survive in the real world. So he quietly cocked his bullets, relaxing as he straightened his shoulders.

“Do you think that Lucis will want you back, _O King of Light_. You think that you will return home the same prince who lays here today? Prince Noctis—let me assure you that you will be nothing but a crystalline _statue_ —a toy for the empire to use at its disposal.” Ravus stated the words—with the touches of anger—but as facts. They were simple—they were sure. “You are _ours_. Our sword to wield against your _coward_ of a father—“

“My father is not a coward!”

“HE ABANDONED MY MOTHER!”

“HE TRIED TO PROTECT HER!” Noctis roared back, lunging and pulling at his restraints. He hissed as he moved his gemstone leg. He writhed with anger, jerking and tugging until the doctors were next to him, giving him a light sedative. He relaxed unconsciously—trembling with anger as pain began to flood his senses and churn what little he could hold down in his stomach.

“No. He fled our home—leaving fire in his wake and only protecting _you._ It appears that karma has returned his gift.” Ravus quirked his lip at the prince who’s face was beginning to redden. The doctors were there again, clipping his oxygen mask back on. “Poor _child_ —helpless and hapless at the hands of his enemy. Anyone could do anything to you, like this.” Ravus looked over his creamy body, unable to stop staring at the gorgeous jewels that had begun to peel his skin back. Who wouldn’t adore this porcelain body? Ravus dragged his fingers across the crystals, marveling at their touch. It was smooth—impeccably so. “I can imagine some already _have_.”

It was only the smell of ozone that made Ravus back up, stumbling over his long jacket and falling on his rear as Noctis warped out of the bed, having materialized a small dagger. He tossed it up and suddenly was staggering over Ravus—eyes full of purple light. Noctis could barely keep himself up—he was near fainting as he first put pressure on his new leg. Agony seared every nerve in his body—striking like lightning up his spine. But he remained up—eyes deadly serious and full of hate.

He took a staggering step, summoning his engine blade. It was a warm familiar pull as it materialized in his hand. It was odd—some part of him knew that it felt easier—as if the pressure in his chest was grateful to be given an outlet. He _needed_ to use the magic—it felt _so_ _good_ , like part of him could breathe again. He took another step, jerking his arm so that the I.V. came out. His heart monitor beeped loudly as it was removed. He couldn’t remove the N.G. tube though and his head crooked awkwardly because of that. He panted into the mask before he reached up and ripped that off too. He needed to use more magic—make his chest ease, so he summoned a polearm, using it to support himself.

“ _You_ … are the coward…” Noctis hissed, eyes tearing up as he tried to take another step on the crystalline leg but this time, it refused to hold him and he crumpled.

Arms surrounded him, keeping him up and holding him close. The raven struggled, but Ardyn was stronger, gathering the prince close to him. His smell was cloying and thick and through the pain, Noctis’ mind hazy, he felt himself drift closer to it. There was something familiar in it. He pressed his nose close, breathing in the sultry cologne Ignis _refused_ he wore.

“Oh my, I didn’t expect such a warm reception.” Noctis froze, thrashing against him as quickly as he had relaxed. He moved to swing his weapon but Ravus had grabbed his wrist. With a precision twist, he heard the bone snap and let out a high pitched shriek. It was a cry that Gladio would have teased him about but Noctis was in far too much pain to care. His weapons faded into sparkling crystals that winked out of existence before they hit the ground. Noctis whimpered, biting his lip as he pulled his wrist back and cradled it.

“Did you like my cologne?” Ardyn asked in that funny accent of his that Noctis couldn’t place. He seemed to find it funny to watch Noctis push and smack against him with his good hand. Still, Ardyn was an unmovable wall. “I see that you’re finding your strength again, little songbird. And giving us such a beautiful little song while you’re at it.” He hummed in delight, leaning out to capture the prince and tug on his torn lip. He was rough, using one hand to keep the prince pinned, and the other to dig into the soft downy hair.

Finally Ardyn pulled back, licking his lips hungrily. “Oh dear, Ravus he tastes just as sweet as he looks.” Ardyn dragged his tongue over Noct’s cheeks where tears were peppering his skin. He lapped up the salty liquid and imagined what other parts of the prince tasted like.

Noctis flinched back at every drag of the tongue, eyes wide and terrified as he raised his good hand to shove at the chancellor, but the man was swift to catch his other hand, locking their fingers together.

“Let me be quite frank, little crow. You are in this beautiful nest because you’re too sickly to move. However, that will change. You’re a strong young man and that makes you a perfect weapon for us. You poor, helpless little bird.”

“I’m not a bird.” Noctis snarled through the throbbing pain that now seemed to set him on fire. “Enough with the pet names!”

“Oh,” Ardyn pouted, his grip bruising on Noctis’ non-broken wrist. “Then may I call you Noct? I feel I’ve earned the right.” He grinned at the angry flush that splashed across the prince’s nose and up his high cheekbones, loving the deep pain that poured across the prince’s divine features.

“Watch yourself.” Noctis snarled, feeling the grip tighten. He didn’t care—about any of the pain. He didn’t care because the pain in his heart was worse than anything his captors could do to him physically. He was losing a battle with his tears and more of them twirled down his face.

“Well then, princeling—I suggest _you_ watch your mouth.” He grinned, tossing Noctis suddenly back into the bed. The prince yelped, landing in a tangled heap of limbs. The doctors maneuvered him around, quickly and efficiently, so his remaining cords didn’t tangle or kink too badly. While doing this, the doctors dosed him with more sedative. He was too dangerous—able to use the crystals magic with little hinderance was bad for them. No one really understood how the crystalline transformation would affect him, but this wasn’t good. Even so, Ardyn grinned as he stood over him, but then tapped his scraggly chin. He mused as he paced back and forth.

“Your time here has only just begun.” Ardyn purred, rubbing the knee brace. Noctis whined with every rough stroke, white and black dots exploding in his vision as he collapsed into the pillows. He sounded like a child—but couldn’t bring himself to stop from the desperate whimpers “You decide what happens to you.”

“D-does that mean… tha-that I decide when I-I… go home?” He panted out desperately, trying to remain coherent through the pain. Ardyn rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue as he removed the pressure and drank in the sounds of the prince reviving.

“Oh dear, don’t be so dramatic.” Ardyn stared at him, beginning to realize that Noctis was _his_. It was a warm feeling in his heart. He could do _whatever_ he wanted. Oh dear where would he start. It wasn’t much, but he would start here, he thought as he took off his jacket. The outfit beneath was far more hideous and Noctis found a little humor in that. That was, until the coat landed on Noctis.

The prince gagged at the overpowering scent—it smelled like safety and he tried to shove that feeling away. _This wasn’t Ignis_. Ignis wouldn’t be coming for him. Ardyn smiled as he snapped his fingers. It was a little magic, but the prince was too drugged to fully realize it as the coat reappeared around his frail form. He grinned at how Noctis looked—swaddled in his clothing like a young child. Smothered in his scent. Noctis whimpered, struggling limply as the cords were hooked back up and he was once again a pliable little patient.

Ardyn relished his innocence, how he scrambled and tried to rid himself of the garment but try as he might, he was stuck in it.

“It means, sleepy little songbird, that you are my _toy_.” He leaned down, hands pinning either side of Noct’s head. “And that Astrals be damned, I get a companion.” He pressed in another fierce kiss that Noctis couldn’t protest—that Noctis was too drugged to struggle against. _He would start here_ , he smirked to himself in the kiss. He pulled back just for a moment as black began to drip from his eyes and mouth. As he leaned down into another kiss, he began to push black liquid into Noctis’ mouth.

Noctis gagged, with enough sense to try and reject the scourge, desperate to escape the taste and the feel of whatever Ardyn was shoving into him. His arms flailed meekly, but then he began to swallow.

Over and over.

The black ichor overcame him and when Ardyn finally pulled back, he was pleased to see something red in the prince’s eyes. Noctis was dazed, mind helplessly else wear. Ardyn didn’t care though. His body would fight it; he would try and remain the pure little hero. The Astrals bore unto the world. However, as Ardyn knew too well, that wouldn’t be enough.

The chancellor wiped at the black liquid leaking from the prince’s cherry pink lips—darkened from the rough kiss — what a perfect present. Noctis was created for him and him alone. Even as the prince’s body began to jerk, seizing and sputtering and black vomit bubbled from his lips, Ardyn found himself immensely aroused. He was done for now.

Ravus watched, fists clenching again. Ardyn was possessive, grabbing and caressing the prince. It was like how a dragon-guarded its loot.

Ravus felt dumb, fumbling with the rectangular item but he managed it. Managed to snap a photo of the prince. It was quick, and he prayed that it would be enough. He didn’t have time to check for quality—not with Ardyn there. But Ravus would be leaving soon and then the King of Light would be alone with the chancellor.

He moved out of the room, wincing slightly as he heard the prince begin to gag, hacking and vomiting up whatever vileness had been forced into him. There was seizing—monitors lighting up but Ravus had to leave—had to believe that they’d keep Noctis alive.

He walked far enough away from the prince’s chambers that he found himself alone and finally had a chance to look at his phone. He always thought cellular phones were garish, but for this, it would have to do. He typed in the number—messing up several times and almost throwing his phone down the empty hall in anger —before finally managing to get the right number in.

“… Lunafreya… I pray that the Astrals are not leading you astray.” He whispered to the device as he sent the photo. He deleted the message, not knowing completely how messaging worked but he hoped it couldn’t be connected to him.

Hoped that he could continue to remain near the King of Light—because at this point, Ravus was the only one that stood between Noctis and his fate as Niflheim's sword.


	17. King's order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really tired... REALLY tired... so sorry that this is kinda... EH...

Lunafreya sat in her new room, quiet as she looked around the chambers at the dark dressings. Most of it was simple, elegant, without all the frills of her homeland. She smiled softly, sitting atop the simple black silk sheets. It all reminded her of Noctis and that simple thought sprung a smile on her lips.

“My king…” She sighed deeply, smoothing the sheets for what felt like the millionth time before standing up. She knew that she was to remain in her chambers—not so much a prisoner, but just allowing the king and his glaives to work on retrieving Noctis. Still, she longed for company.

The oracle crept to the door and opened it slightly, peering out to see what guard stood there now. To her shock, a young man stood there that was vaguely familiar. He had been there when she woke up, reassuring and kind. He had one of those smiles that a younger Luna may have swooned over. He looked grim, eyes distant before perking as she poked her nose out. _Oh what was his name_ , she cursed herself, nipping her lip as they stared at each other. With a sudden realization, she beamed and pushed the door open.

“Sir Ulric.” She greeted, proud at herself for finally remembering the famed Hero from Galahd.

“Yes, Lady Lunafreya?” He smiled easily, trying to hide his apprehension. He was working off three cans of ebony and had just taken up position after a brutal meeting with Clarus and Cor. It was like speaking to two legends and although Nyx came with his own resume, it was nothing compared to them. His anger was a spark next to their raging pyre that the two of them tried to conceal. Of course, they concealed it amazingly but—everyone knew. Still, he tried to chase all that from his frazzled mind—knowing he was staring dumbly at the princess of Tenebrae.

“Could you join me?” Nyx blinked, a little dumbfounded by the question.

“Um… I am meant to stay out here, for your protection.” He offered lamely, but his body protested as his stomach gurgled out its disapproval.

“I am plenty safe here.” She assured him with a little bitter smile and a soft chuckle. “Please?” Nyx relaxed his stiff posture and sighed with a shake of his head.

“Whatever her ladyship desires.” He bowed lightly and followed her within. Luna was quick to sit at a small table by the window. There was a light powdering of snow outside—did Noctis like snow? He loved fields—grass and flowers. She pressed against the crisp windows, enjoying the cool against her warm fingers. It reminded her of Gentiana. She lowered her hand slowly, smiling at the glaive who now shifted awkwardly on the padded seat. On the table was the remnants of her breakfast—a small tray of pastries that almost reminded her of home and now cold scones. There was a tiny pot of tea that was half empty along with a bowl of sugar and cream. It was dainty and Luna wanted to laugh when it was Gladiolus who brought the tea-tray to her. Again, she heard the sound of Nyx’s stomach rumble and she gestured out to the food.

“Please, help yourself.” Nyx blinked, then bobbed his head once, snagging an old ulwaat scone, scarfing it down. Luna chuckled at him, covering her mouth. “Do they not feed you?” She teased and Nyx choked on the crumbs in his haste to speak.

“With the prince missing…” He gagged, smacking his chest before he finally managed to speak again. "and Captain Drautos at large, our forces have been stretched rather thin.” He admitted, watching the princess’s eyes fall to her lap.

“Of course, pardon my ignorance.”

“No no! You’re good!” Nyx stumbled over his words again, sighing as he scratched the back of his head. “Can I be honest?”

“I would prefer that, yes.” Nyx quirked her lips at her, and Luna’s eyes crinkled slightly. Nyx settled his hands in his lap, picturing the prince. The arrogant, bratty prince that the kingsglaive adored. No one admitted it. No one ever said it. Nyx wanted to change it because now…

“His majesty is… distraught and I don’t blame him, even though Sir Amicitia is by his side, it’s already been ten days.” He looked at her, the implications heavy in his words but she didn’t seem to catch what he was saying. He tried again. “Have you ever heard of the twenty-four-hour mark?” She shook her head lightly and Nyx tugged at his face in response. Why was he even saying this? He should have more poise, but exhaustion was a heavy mantle to wear. He was hardly the worst one suffering, but it was not something he was adept at handling. “It's the time we give for kidnapping victims… after twenty-four hours, more often than not… the kidnapped individual is…”

“Dead. You can say it, Sir Ulric. I am not a flower.”

“Nyx.” He cleared his throat again, smiling weakly. If they were going to be discussing this, may as well skip the formalities. “And yeah. Dead.” He repeated weakly. “Dead. He is probably dead.”

“Even if he is a political target? Surely they would keep someone as important as Noctis alive?” Her voice wavered and when Nyx looked at her, he saw those gray bags that seemed to dog the residents of the citadel. It seems sleep had evaded the princess as well.

“We keep hope alive,” Nyx assured her. “Until we find a body, we won’t give up. We’re bringing him home.” His voice was so sure and Luna took comfort in that. She felt awful—here she thought she was saving Noctis, but she had allowed The Accursed to take him away. How foolish she was! No doubt the Astrals would see to her punishment. She deserved it. She deserved all the suffering in the world as long as she could see her King safely to his home.

Her phone dinged suddenly and despite herself, the princess let out a tiny squeak. Nyx found himself muffling a laugh, which was silenced when she shot him a glare. He didn’t really think that the Oracle would have a phone—but of course she did. Everyone had one nowadays.

As her attention drifted down from Nyx and to her own phone, she found her lips dragged down by the number. Pardoning herself, she quickly opened up the attached image. Her spare hand found her mouth, trying to hide her horror. There was the pinch of guilt that tightened the muscles around her eyes. _This is your fault_. Luna knew that Nyx was by her side, kneeling down in front of her, eyes alert and nervous and scared of what she had seen. Still, even with his insisting blue eyes, it took her a moment to collect herself.

“Let me assuage one fear, Nyx.” She whispered and her voice was strained. “He is alive.” Nyx frowned as he took the phone from her delicate hands and nearly crushed it. He swallowed quickly, feeling his muscles clench around the fragile device. Some part of him was glad that Gladio wasn’t the one to discover this. His temper was legendary. That wasn’t the point though.

Noctis was alive!

From the looks of the blurry photo, he was receiving medical attention. He didn’t look at it long, because he knew that there were more important people that needed to see this. He stood up and to his surprise found Luna standing as well.

“You should sta-“

“No.” Her voice left little room for argument and Nyx felt his lips quirk. She was something alright.

“Keep up then,” Nyx stated before darting down the hall. He wanted to warp, but hearing her clipped heels chase after him stopped him from doing so. They had to get to Regis. Nyx knew that there were protocols, but he couldn’t think straight, not when there was hope that bubbled like a long frozen brook in his heart.

Noctis was alive!

Noctis was alive, and everything else could be fixed.

He held onto the phone tightly as they reached the elevator. They climbed in, and no matter how anxious Nyx was, the elevator would only trudge along at its same dull speed. He tapped the floor anxiously before looking down at the phone. He clicked the buttons, taking a screenshot and sent it to himself. That would have to be enough he sighed. Finally, he tucked the phone inside his jacket.

As the elevator opened, Nyx realized he was done with stalling. He scooped Luna up into his arms and was surprised when she didn’t protest. Maybe she felt the urgency in his grip and the tremor in his body.

He warped like a daemon, like the king himself on a battlefield. He slammed through the doors of the king’s council room and heard Cor yell at him—Nyx was well aware he was breaking protocol, acting out of line, but it didn’t matter. Regis looked up, eyes startled as he set Lunafreya down and scrambled into an awkward bow as he fished to retrieve the phone. When he finally found it, he shoved it across the table.

“Your Highness Noctis is alive!” Regis stared and grabbed the phone and quietly opened it. Nyx only then took the moment to take stock of who was in the room. Clarus stood behind his majesty, face of stone. Cor paced nearby, prowling like the caged animal that he was. They both gathered close to look at the picture.

At the table, Ignis Scientia and Gladiolus Amicitia sat next to Prompto Argentum—who looked terrified at the company he now kept. He took pity on them, holding out his own phone so that the three of them could see their beloved charge.

It was the soft sob that Regis let out that made Nyx look up. The sight tore at his heart. His king wasn’t vulnerable, but he wasn’t a king right now. He was a helpless father who wanted any information about his lost child. Regis zoomed in on the photo, whimpering when he saw the bruises on his child’s jaw and the black liquid that dripped from his mouth. Starscourge, eyes widening as he felt his heart stutter. The three boys were whispering—Prompto dead silent as he zoomed in on the photo. There was hysteria lurking above him.

“Th-The lighting sucks.” He trembled out, making Gladio turn his rage on the helpless teenager. He was about to roar when the King let out a tiny whisper.

“Th-The Engine blade disappeared… It was hanging in the dining room during lunch and it…”

“Noctis summoned it.” Cor smiled bleakly, encouraged by the words. It was another weird sight—Cor didn’t smile. If you could even call this a smile. “He must be fighting.”

“He’s a fighter, Reggie. We’ll get him back.” Clarus promised, holding onto his king’s shoulder. It seemed all protocol had been forgotten.

Titles.

Procedure.

Nothing mattered.

Nyx bowed his head. Noctis was alive, that was all he could repeat to himself.

“Clarus look at his leg…” Regis responded weakly. “He’s…”

“Nothing is permanent. We’ll bring him home—“

“We don’t even know where he is Clarus!”

“Majesty!” Luna piped up, making the two men fall silent. “I actually have an idea where he might be. My brother sent the photo, and I saw his schedule before I departed for Insomnia. I believe him to be visiting Gralea currently.”

“Gralea…” Regis whispered, face stoney and cold. He projected a weak smile, nodding his head in lieu of thanks. But now they knew where Noctis was. Now they could bring him back. “Clarus form a team—“

“No.” Regis froze, turning to look at Cor. _No_? It was like all the air left the room. Everyone was on edge, hairs raised on the back of their necks. But Cor did not waver. “Your majesty, it is suicide. To ask soldiers to do that—“

“You don’t need to ask anyone.” Nyx stated. “You don’t need to ask me at least.”

“Me either.” Clarus cursed as his strong-willed son choose then to pipe up. Clarus cast his eyes over the two young men—both Noctis’ retainers—sitting soldier still, eyes deadly with determination. They were prepared to die for Noctis.

“We’ll go. Suicide or no.” Ignis reaffirmed, meeting the Marshal’s icicle vision.

“No.”

“Yes.” Ignis stood up and stepped around the table, “I am the one who allowed Noctis to be spirited off, I shall be responsible for his retrieval.”

“No! You’re all mad!” Cor snapped, causing the younger members to faulter back a step. Gladio stood, knocking his chair back and it clattered in the quiet din of the room. “ _IF_ he is in Gralea—and we still don’t know that he is, regardless of Lady Lunafreya’s intel--then he will be under heavy guard.”

“I’ll go myself then. I’m not afraid.” Ignis snarled but if it came down to posturing, Cor had the young advisor beat.

“Yes. You would go, wouldn’t you?” He began to approach Ignis, step by step. Stalking his prey, looking for a weakness to strike upon. “And you want to know what would happen? You would die before you ever _saw_ him. You would die before you even made it _inside_ the building—and that’s if you’re lucky! And then, they would increase security. They would store Noctis away somewhere we’d never be able to find, and they’d surely be able to track down the sender of this message.” He shoved the phone into Ignis’s hands, allowing the retainer to stair miserably at the face of their failure. “Your ‘ _heroic_ ’ death would make it impossible to bring him home. That goes for you as well, Your majesty.” Cor whirled on Regis who wilted at the news. "We cannot just go in there and retrieve him. The price of failure is too high to pay and the variables are innumerable. We need more intel.” He held up his hands before either Ignis or Regis could argue. “I’m not saying we sit on our hands! I’m saying we come up with a plan to guarantee Noctis’s safe return home.”

The room was silent—few had the pleasure of hearing Cor’s raised voice and after a few seconds of awkward silence, Nyx whistled impressively making Gladio snort despite the withering glare from his father.

Regis held his head, swaying lightly—not realizing when he had stood up. Clarus gripped his shoulder, only relaxing once Regis was seated and able to wave off their concern, he beckoned Ignis and Gladio forward.

“I cannot ask that you both remain impartial to this.” He smiled weakly at the twin looks of relief on their face. He knew that they would not have sat idly by either. “Your devotion to my son is heartwarming…”

“We’d do anything to see him home.” Gladio swore, clasping a fist over his heart and bowing. Ignis repeated the motion, hair askew.

“With my dying breath I swear I’ll see him safely on Lucian soil.” Regis nodded gently, gesturing for them to rise.

“And mister Argentum,” Nyx glanced over and smirked when he saw the Chocobo hair perk up. Prompto blushed but quickly stood and jogged over to stand slightly behind Gladio.

“I didn’t mean to evesdrop king, sir, your majesty. I mean… Greetings!” Prompto dropped into a hasty bow and it was the warmth everyone in the group needed. Some tension left. Luna smiled gently, standing next to Regis with Nyx to her side.

“I will ask that the three of you… not go to Gralea.”

“Your majesty—“ Regis stopped Gladio again, and this time he couldn’t help but smile at the way that Clarus was glaring at his son. Ifrit would be proud of the fire that the elder shield sent his son’s way. “Not yet at least. A time will come when we can bring him home… for now, all of us… myself included, must seek out more information.” The group nodded, some more bitterly than others.

Prompto bounced on his toes, worrying his lips and Cor caught the familiar look.

“Spit it out.” He ordered and the blonde squawked in surprise.

“Sir, your kingliness, what about that guy training Noctis? Drought?”

“Captain Drautos?” Ignis supplied much to the teen’s relief.

"Yeah, him! Shouldn’t we be talking to him?” Clarus stepped forward, allowing the king a moment.

“If we could find him, then that’s exactly what we would be doing.” He stated curtly, almost shutting Prompto up, but the blonde was hard to deter.

“Right… But you guys have security cameras, stuff like that. And from what I know… I mean, screws made out of crystal? Someone has to have helped him.” _More traitors_. Regis looked down at his lap, at his aging hands. The weight of the world seemed to increase by the minute. He wanted to forget it all, to hold his son close to his chest like when he was young.

“I loathe to think we have more rats in our midst, but it would be foolish to dismiss the possibility.”

“Right, traitors— _or_ maybe he forged a note. He was like a really important dude, yeah?” Prompto looked around at the hesitant nods. “So why couldn’t he forge a note? Ask someone for help saying it was for you?” The others blinked slowly.

“Prompto…” Ignis stared down at his friend, who had that helpless smile that made all his freckles crinkle up. They’d been so busy chasing enemies that they failed to think of others that had been tricked like them.

“Cid is the only person I can think of who would be able to work with the crystal.” Clarus murmured, glancing at the group of teenagers. “We’ll send a word to him at once.”

"No need.” Regis raised his hand. “I’ll call him myself. It’s been too long as it is. Everyone else... locate my son. Get any information you can--I don't care how. I want to know where my boy is by the end of the day!" His voice resonated and the men around him snapped into salutes. 

"YES YOUR MAJESTY!"


	18. Sing us a Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a turn for the worse Noctis  
> \-- Ardyn enjoys his new Toy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! I am back and ready to ruin Noct's new years! <3 hope all your holidays were nice!

Ardyn practically purred in delight as he received the news from the MT, hunger filling limbs he long thought numb. Noctis was healthy enough to be released from his medical unit. _Now the fun could finally begin_.

 _Oh_ , how he had waited for this moment, building the perfect nest for his beloved crow. But, he had to keep his promise! After all, all a man had, in the end, was his word.

He stood in the doorway, watching as the N.G. tube was removed from his nose, snaked out and making him--even unconscious-- snuffle and sneeze. It was so cute that Ardyn had to cover his mouth to avoid laughing out loud. He walked forward, smoothly brushing aside the technicians to gather the young man in his arms. He had unfortunately been changed into a soft hospital gown, instead of Ardyn's large jacket. The chancellor buried his face into Noctis's neck, breathing in the faint scent of the prince. He was delicious, even with the hospital odors obscuring the delicate scent of his highness, it was still there. Defiant and sweet. He was tempted to lick him, to taste that powerful aroma, but he was aware of his position and of the human technicians that still hovered nearby.

So with the prince nice and sedated, Ardyn stood up and carried him from his tower down, down, down into the bowels of the compound. The little princeling—for now he truly was little, having lost a great deal of weight in his captivity already being malnourished in Drautos’ care—began to stir as he was carried. He whimpered softly, shifting ever so delicately. Ardyn smiled at murmured soothingly in response. It wasn’t much, but Noctis seemed to believe himself safe as his shifting stopped and he curled closer. Ardyn licked his lips, holding the child closer. He liked these moments when his pet seemed to long for his touch. He wanted to keep him happy, but unfortunately, he had to keep his word.

His bird had been naughty, and now he had to be punished.

Poor Noctis.

It was completely hidden—merely a wall with the imperial banner cascading down the otherwise bleak space. But he knew what secrets this abandoned hallway held. Ardyn's body tugged, a pressure that built deep within his ribs, and he could feel Noctis whimper at that. Ardyn shushed the boy gently, his fingers stroking through the delicate strands that reminded him of the downy feathers of his Chocobo. _Oh, what a fine pet he was, and now! Now Ardyn had found the perfect replacement!_

Ardyn warped through the wall, appearing in a room that he’d built months ago. There was a single cot shoved to the side of the room—for when Noctis was good. After all, Ardyn knew just how much the princeling loved his sleep. _Sleep is for good little boys_. There was a trough of water on the wall and a similar trough for food. The only other door in the room led to a tiled room. There were a faucet and different nozzles along with a wide grated panel. And then, there were the hooks. Different types built for different chains. A perfect playroom for his latest toy. 

Ardyn lay the beautiful creature in the middle of the room, taking in his lithe body. His hair had grown long in his imprisonment and without the styling and silly sprays that he insisted on putting in it, it curled around his face and fell in his eyes. Ardyn kneeled down, tender as he dragged his knuckles across the familiar cheekbones.

“How cruel of you, little brother,” Ardyn murmured, smoothing Noctis’s hair to mimic someone from his past. “My… you could be his twin, song bird. Unfortunately, you pale in comparison.” He sighed as he raised his hands and black coils of chains formed in his grip. He looked at Noctis and hummed in consideration. Since Noctis's silly little attack on Ravus, he’d been nothing but a nuisance. He fought everything—fought the nurses that attempted to wash him, the food they gave him, the clothes they brought. He was ungrateful, and that was something that Ardyn wouldn’t stand for. So, Ardyn set to work removing Noctis of his clothes, folding them up in a neat little pile and admiring the body of the chosen one.

The astrals had crafted this boy from cream and sapphire. His nipples were rose rubs against otherwise milky skin. And oh, there was the crystal. It was a sapphire as fine as its host’s eyes, the only adornment remaining on the prince was the gaudy golden brace. Ardyn snapped his fingers, enjoying silver on his prize far more. So far the crystal had repelled the scourge, but that would change in time.

The chancellor's smile dipped when he began to notice the amount of abuse his bird had endured. There were so many scars—and while there had been several assassination attempts--none of them should be this gruesome. They curled around Noctis’s ribs like armor—but all of them easily hidden by clothing. Realization hit him with a bolt of anger.

“Glauca.” He muttered to himself with a huff of frustration. He would certainly have a word with the general for sullying his beautiful specimen. Still, something was endearing about the healed injuries—they could have been fixed with a simple potion—scar-less and unblemished. Noctis had chosen to endure the pain. What a silly little bird. But if he enjoyed pain, who was Ardyn not to oblige him?

In the sudden chill, goose pimples scattered over the chilled prince. The cold cement did little preserve the little heat the prince retained. Noctis was beginning to stir again, but it wasn’t his cue. Ardyn brushed his fingers over those flickering eyelids, stilling them. A sweet dream, he thought as Noctis’s lips turned up, _such a sweet expression_. Part of Ardyn yearned to preserve that innocence, the astral-born jewel, but that wasn’t how his life worked. He would change that now.

The astrals wanted him to die? _Hah! Somnus had the chance to kill him, but the Astrals had turned his body into an immortal vessel for darkness and daemons—the chosen healer!_ _When Ardyn had done nothing but good for their blighted star! Well, as much as he longed for the abyss—to be free of the chains of his body, to see his little brother again—he wouldn’t let them have their way._

“You’ll need to start fighting your own battles, Bahamut!” He called, laughing as the dark chains in his grip molded around Noctis’s thin wrists. No break, no lock. Noctis wouldn’t be able to free himself. No one would. Ardyn licked his lips, waving his hand and enjoying the sight of Noctis being dragged up by his wrists till he dangled a few inches above the ground. There was the sickening pop of one of his shoulders dislocating, but Ardyn found is melodious.

“My, is this not a throwback. Kids do say that nowadays, do they not, Noctis?” As he said the name—called by his voice—the prince’s lids fluttered delicately and opened. Ardyn smiled at the astral-blighted violet. What a pretty color, so fleeting in Noctis’s ancestors. Now, Ardyn could take took his time, drinking them in.

“Nng…” Noctis whimpered, before beginning his struggle. Such a little warrior. Ardyn watched, amused as there was a second pop and Noctis gasped as shocks of pain lanced through his arms. His eyes were dinner plate wide, unable to see what was in front of him, his muscles tightening in an attempt to brace for the pain but the attack was internal and left him struggling for breath. His body was working so hard for nothing.

“I would refrain from moving too much, my gem.”

“m'n…not a dumb… rock…” As if to spite him, Noctis began to struggle harder, his wrists chafing against the shackles, his body already so weak and run down. Ardyn sighed dramatically, pacing back in front with an expression of mock dismay.

“Is my affection so vile, little song bird?” He asked, stepping up to take Noctis’s chin. He smiled lightly, seeing a little beauty mark just below Noctis’ lip. He allowed himself to nibble it, making the princeling squirm and whine. “Oh hush now.”

“L-leave me ‘lone…” He mumbled, and Ardyn actually broke out into laughter at that. The surliness of sleep still mixed in Noctis’s voice, even while he dangled from two dislocated shoulders. “Wh-where am I…?” His eyes fluttered and blinked, trying to adjust to the too bright lights from above. They shone on him like a spot light. He looked so cute, his brow scrunched up like there was something actually happening in that sullen head of his.

“The doctors released you this morning. I moved you to you new home, my Dollie.”

“D-doll…?” Noctis frowned at the words, scrunching his brow again. “‘M not a doll…”

“Oh, but you most certainly are.” Ardyn smiled, beginning to circle his toy. His fingers traveled around Noctis’s hips, stopping when he came to the scars of his youth. His near lethal accident. Had Ardyn not intervened, the astrals precious king would have died. He smiled, moving forward to press his lips to the deepest valley of the wound. “You’re divine.” Noctis wiggled in discomfort, slowly coming out of the sedation that the doctors loved to dose him with. The pain was getting sharper, trying to dull his thoughts but he pushed it down and back. Gladio would be proud. Still, his shoulders were inflamed and the pain was a blinding point that seemed to sync with the growing pressure in his head. But Ardyn wasn’t hurting him now, he was gentle and letting his fingers find all of the signs of weakness that Noctis had earned in pursuit of strength. Those fingers circled Noct’s sensitive nipples and the prince was tense— but it wasn’t pain that flared out, but the tremble of pleasure that rippled across his sensitive skin. No one touched the prince, no one touched Noctis’s creamy flesh. Oh how Ardyn recalled the years growing up when no one would approach him—how he was revered and untouched. How lonely his body grew even without his knowledge.

Noctis whined, squirming as Ardyn’s fingers continued their exploration. Physically, the little song bird was responding to every little movement. But that face could freeze Eos. He spat on Ardyn, making the chancellor pout and step back, flicking the spittle off his outfit.

“Sh-shoulda guessed… you’re a perv…” Noctis hissed out, feeling the chill on parts of him that he rather remain covered. Of course, Ardyn _looked_ like the type of man who would lure kids into a white van. He was the _picture_ of perversion. Ardyn’s gaze bit into Noctis as he completed another circle to stare at the defiant prince.

“It seems you don’t quite grasp that I own you, little one.” Ardyn caught his jaw, forcing the prince to meet his fierce golden orbs. “You will figure it out in due time though, I can ensure you of that.” He was in his hands again, dramatic to the extreme—it was the anticipation that made Noctis flinch when the black collar finally appeared. It was thick and heavy and just as suddenly it was on his throat. Just a little too tight, so that swallowing hurt.

He whined and shook his head, twisting around before he let out a weak little squeak in pain. He was trying so hard to be the brave little prince Regis had raised him to be. He would learn that bravery did nothing but make one foolish. It was nothing but a fools perception of strength, and his young bird had oh so much to learn.

Luckily, Noctis was too stunned by Ardyn using magic that he didn’t quite grasp his newest accessory. He was silent after his initial struggling, each breath made his throat scrape against the icy metal. My, he was truly a vision. Ardyn looked at him, then shook his head with a sigh.

“It is such a shame that Lucis claimed Black, as it is simply an exquisite color. But we cannot have you forget that you are no longer a Lucian.” With another wave of his hand—a motion that noctis was learning to hate-- his chains and collar turned into burning red—the color of Niflhiem. “One more adjustment, dear songbird. Your toy is not performing correctly.” Ardyn brushed his fingers over the surface, watching as runes burned to life on the surface. For a moment, there was nothing, and then the child screamed in pain, wresting his neck from side to side, his fingers curling and uncurling as he tried to move—but those shoulders prevented him from doing any real damage. The bruises were glowing on his skin, the swelling making them bigger and more radiant. The prince screamed in panic, his breaths coming in sharp bursts that scraped against that damned collar. He couldn’t get enough breaths, but the feeling of exhaustion—of his entire body suddenly draining—was startling.

“Oh! Dear, I forget to mention, we can’t have you using your magic anymore. Not without an order after all.” Noctis lifted his panicked face to his tormentor and Ardyn sucked in a sharp breath. Those blue eyes—that pierced his dreams. He would never forget the way his little brother looked at him. Now they were here. They were _real_. “My little crow, summon fire.” Ardyn heard himself call distantly, and beamed when fire leapt to life a few feet from himself. Noctis stared, eyes wide and terrified before they rotated to Ardyn.

“Please…” It was the first time he’d heard the prince beg and it tugged at his heart. How delicious to have Somnus incarnate at his beck and call. “Please don’t…”

“Don’t worry, my beautiful bird.” Ardyn moved forward, cupping that beautiful face again. “I will teach you to heal, to summon daemons, to summon gods. With you on my side, why, even the Draconian himself shall bow before me.” Noctis stared, his tears forming crystals in his eyes that Ardyn tutted and brushed away.

“It hurts,” Noctis whispered, eyes desperately seeking compassion.

“Yes.” Ardyn stepped back pulling something from his own armiger. He smiled as the horror hit Noctis like a brick, destroying what remained of his carefully made mask of apathy. Seven spears floated around the chancellor of Niflhiem.

“Th-that’s Lucian magic…” Noctis stated dumbly.

“ _No_.” Ardyn laughed softly. “It’s _my_ magic. But don’t worry! I promise you’ll grow accustomed to the pain.” Ardyn flicked his finger and the first pole ran through Noctis, right below that beautiful nipple, and pushing down through his lower back. The scream that filled the room was blood curdling and sent chills up Ardyn’s spine.

“My, my dear little song bird, I knew you would sing me a beautiful song.” He smiled as the boy screamed himself ragged, coughing up blood that dribbled down his chin and through the valley of his sternum. He cried desperately, eyes pinched before they flew open again, unable to find something to look on — something that was comforting. “Oh, is the song over? Sing again.” Ardyn smirked and sent another pole through Noctis. A pattern followed, Ardyn sending a pole into his delicate bird, Noctis screaming himself ragged and then Ardyn piercing him again. One by one by one those rods pierced the delicate little creature. And oh, how he screamed. He kept shaking his head as they found their marks, as if he could negate the fate that was about to befall him. But Ardyn wasn’t cruel. No no, he was _merciful_! After all, he was saving this child from his fate as the Gods’ plaything.

“Little darling, heal yourself. You’re not allowed to die.” Through the shock that was beginning to make the prince feel cold, as his own blood covered his bare body. A warmth glowed inside him—a power that he’d never felt before. A power that the Lucis Caelums had long since lost, began to chase the pain back into their poles. Magic began to knit his body closed around the poles, allowing his body to function around those bloody poles. He gasped and coughed, clotted blood like daemon scourge splattering on the floor in front of him. He couldn’t speak, eyes blown as he tried to grapple with what had happened to him.

“You seem confused, Songbird,” Ardyn said in a pitying tone that would have caused the prince to rage before—now he was silent except for these tiny little gasps. Little whines and desperate babbles. Like an infant. “Isn’t this how Lucians treat their crystal? Isn’t this how Lucians treat their Chosen King?” He hissed out, allowing bitterness to flow through scourge in his words. He knew all too well, but now, it was time for the new chosen king to learn his place too—just another tool for someone stronger and crueler to wield. “I hope next time we speak you will have another pretty song for me.” Ardyn hummed out, tempted to lick the blood away from the wounds. Noctis’s eyes followed him, shock and dismay draining him as he hung naked from his chains.

“Y-ou… le-leavin..g?” He choked out, struggling as the poles pierced his lungs. Ardyn smiled gently, stepping back to admire his hard work. There were flakes of crystal forming around the poles. Poor Noctis was in too much pain to realize that. His conversion would continue and the chancellor, as much as it pained him to admit, truly had no idea what would befall the Lucian brat. But the sweat drenched shivering body, it reminded Ardyn of his own prison—made his cold chest warm with something close to sympathy.

“It took them 2000 years to find me, my dearest princeling.” He felt his lips tug at the corners. “I do wonder how long it will take them to find you.”


	19. 1 Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about the hiatus. I honestly didn't know where to begin. I gave the story a little time skip since the last chapter but dont worry, for those here for Noctis Whump I will be doing flashbacks! Im really sorry about the wait again! I hope to get back into the groove! Also I know this chapter is short.   
> Sorry not sorry.   
> Im just glad to be back to writin!

“Do you know how long it’s been?”

The low laughter was a sound that haunted Ignis’s nightmares. It drilled its way into his mind in the fitful hours he managed to sleep each night. It reminded him of how much he had failed the one person that mattered. Of just what he had lost. His blood-shot eyes flickered open, taking in the king’s office. Rain drummed against the windows, a pleasant white noise that must have sent him into sleep. His body is slumped over one of the plush armchairs.

He’d spent so much time in this room—in this chair. On the coffee table before him stands his organized piles of paperwork. He’d been filling them out before he’d fallen asleep. He had been working to help the king, anything to help him. Anything to make this waking nightmare easier. His body is sore and he can feel the indent of the carved chair backing in the side of his face. He massages it quietly, wincing when his hands ghost over a new pimple.

Another one?

It’s vain, but it makes his chest seize. With his fingers massaging the sore lump, he slowly stretched his body, fixing his askew glasses so that they hugged his nose tightly.

His eyes drifted towards the desk, blinking in shock when he saw the King standing over the desk, illuminated by the city lights and the flashing storm like a raging deity. With one hand he leans over his desk, his phone pressed close to his ear. It was always so funny—in an odd way—that the king of Lucis used a smart phone. However, this wasn’t a laughing matter. Nothing was funny about this situation. With rain battering the floor to ceiling window, the lighting mottled on the king’s face. Still, he could see the rage etched into all of those deep wrinkles. They had grown deeper over the course of Noctis’ absence. His hair was nearly completely silver. Stress didn’t sit well with the aging king.

“A year, Izunia! A year! You are not fooling anyone with your ruse of innocence!” Regis slammed his fist on the desk, shaking the photo of a five year old Noctis happily holding a fish nearly equal his size. “Give him back. NOW!”

“Or what, your majesty?” His laughter was loud enough to be heard through the phone’s tinny speaker. “It’s been a year and yet you still have not rescued him. Have not even gotten close to discovering his location.” Regis’s fist clenched and blue lights began to flicker around him. The king’s armiger. A weapon of legend that Ignis only heard about before today. Lemongrass eyes widened, catching the light of another crash of lightning.

“I’ll give you anything…” Came the King’s broken response almost drowned out by the sky’s angry rumble. Ignis felt his heart clench because he knew what Regis felt. Noctis may not be his son… but he was something equally precious. He agreed. Even though it was wrong. Even if it meant harming others, he would sacrifice the world’s light if it meant that Noctis could return to him. “Please…”

“Well… Since you’ve asked so nicely.” That laugh, if it didn’t haunt Ignis before, it certainly did now. “Perhaps I can give you a hint~?” That tilting accent made Ignis shiver, sitting up straighter he caught his Majesty’s gunmetal eyes. His expression softened, but only until he saw the determination in the young chamberlain’s eyes. He flashed a terse thin-lipped smile before turning towards his phone. He wanted to shoot back, that this was not a game, that a hint wasn’t enough, but they were close to the first actual lead.

They were close to seeing Noctis again.

“What do you ask in return?” The king asked, beckoning Ignis forward. Ignis nearly tripped in his haste but righted himself as the meticulous paperwork fluttered to the ground. Soon he was standing close, resting a reassuring hand on the king’s trembling shoulders—whether it was rage or exhaustion was anyone’s guess. It was the middle of the night, Ignis could see that now. Clarus and the Kingsglaive were outside. They were the only people there. Ignis could be witnessing mutiny, but he would gladly support his King—his prince—in any way they needed.

“I simply require your presence at his retrieval. Nothing warms my heart more than a touching reunion.” He drawled the words out, making the king clench his jaw in anger. They weren’t foolish enough to believe that he was telling the truth. That this wasn’t a trap. But it didn’t matter.

“Where and when.”

“Now seems as good a time as any, does it not, Your Majesty.” Ignis stiffened. Just like that? No more looking. No more fights or spies. They were just going to pick Noctis up? “Perhaps you could trouble a visit to Angelgard.” Regis was the one to stiffen at this, eyes darting to ignis before he bobbed his head once more.

“It shall take me two hours.” He replied, already moving out from behind his desk, nearly forgetting his cane in his zeal but Ignis was quick to follow him. Angelgard. He caught the location and even though the withered king sent a glare at him, Ignis did not back down, simply holding out the cane.

“Feel free to take your time, Majesty. His young highness shall keep me company until your arrival.” The voice laughed brightly, and Ignis barely caught the phone before the King threw his cane across the room.

~~~~~~~~

“The Prince’s hand.” Ardyn drawled, grinning as he heard the young man sputter on the other side. He seemed like such a well put together young man. How the absence of his lord had weakened him. It amused Ardyn to no end.

“Your prince awaits you.” He laughed into the phone before hanging it up, not waiting for the king to return. He turned, staring at the prince suspended by the spears that impaled him.

“You hear that, pet?” He laughed, watching the blistered red eyes fly open. “It’s time to play.”


	20. Kingdom Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE. Yup I got the inspiration juice back! Your comments really helped inspire me! So drop your comments please please! <3

It wasn’t a question of _if_ he would be joining Regis to Angelgard, Ignis wouldn’t hear of any excuses that Regis sputtered out on the seemingly endless walk to the Regalia.

There was something bittersweet about seeing the royal vehicle. Ignis could recall, even from a young age, Noctis describing the car that his father used to drive back when he was an adventurous young man. It was sleek, polished perfectly. He remembered the tales that Regis would tell Noctis after his attack. Ignis would sit in the bed next to him, listening attentively to the stories that Regis wove of how Cor the Immortal took down a behemoth by luring it with the Regalia. Or how Aulea Lucis Caelum had nearly given birth in the back seat.

It seemed wrong to climb into it without him.

There were more cars preparing to leave, but Regis refused to wait for adequate guards. He threatened to drive himself. So instead, five of them were going to pile into the soft vehicle — four of the most talented men, and Ignis. 

The news was passed throughout the citadel like wildfire, and as they descended the citadel's steps, soldiers were already lining it. Ignis passed a worn out Gladio who watched as the royal retinue prepared to head out.

“I should be going with you.” He’d whispered, body exhausted and trembling before the Chamberlain. “I’m his _shield_.” Ignis bit his lip. Cruel words bubbled within him. The shield and sword had hardly spoken to each other since Noctis’ disappearance. Ignis knew it wasn’t Gladio’s fault, but anger festered inside him and longed for an outlet.

“You should rest.” He murmured reluctantly, keeping from lashing out. “You won’t get much rest once he returns.” The shield shook his head, as bull-headed as his prince.

“Uh uh. I’ll be in the cars behind you.” Ignis felt something deep in him smirk. He would see Noctis first. He would see his beloved Prince first.

“Then I do not understand why you are complaining.” Ignis spat, with little remorse as he slid into the padded interior of the most luxurious car in Lucis. Time stretched onwards as the other four followed him. They seemed to move at a snail's pace. Why weren't they moving faster? They didn't have time to waste! _We’re going to get him_ , Ignis reminded himself. He soon found himself shoved in the middle, feeling slightly awkward with the king to his left and Nyx Ulric to his right. Cor was driving with Clarus next to him in the passenger seat.

As they pulled out of the citadel, guilt stung his chest as he saw the shield wilting. Noctis indeed was the sunlight of the kingdom. It seemed everyone was fading without his presence.

The drive was silent and tense. No one was willing to breach the oppressive silence. Even Nyx didn’t try to lighten the mood.

No, no one was willing to speak, but they all thought. Feet tapped against the floor, fingers drummed the upholstery. They were tormented by the thoughts of what they might find. Cor finally spoke up when they were several miles from Galdin Quay.

“We need to prepare ourselves.” He said, cutting off Regis and Clarus who both attempted to interject. “ _No_. We cannot be naive here. He’s been missing for a year. We’ve received no proof of life. Now, after so long, they’re simply returning him to us? We have to be prepared for the worst.” Cor glanced to the back of the car, sighing softly. “I don’t want to think about this any more than you do… but I am no fool.” Regis refused to look at him, staring out the window as the scenery flew by.

Ignis sucked in his cheeks, struggling to comprehend the idea that they could arrive at Angelgard to find the mutilated body of the late prince. It was only when he noticed several pairs of eyes on him that Ignis realized he had accidentally let out a sob. He covered his mouth with a gloved hand, fingers trembling as he felt heat creeping over his greasy face. Nyx’s hand found his shoulder; gently he squeezed the trembling man.

“We _also_ cannot lose hope.” The heroic glaive reminded the car, eyeing the Immortal through the mirror. “Noctis is stronger than we give him credit for.” Regis smiled at the words but still didn’t say a word. There was no need, after all, for they had arrived at the Quay.

The boat ride was just as silent as the car ride. Cid was waiting for them on the pier, giving Regis a solemn nod before piloting the boat out towards the mythical island. Regis stood at the prow of the ship, gazing out over the moonlit waves. The clouds hung low over the ocean, misting it. Regis didn’t blink, didn’t care. He gripped the railing, staring out at the rocks that formed the island of fairy tales. _Noctis was there_. Had he been there the whole time?

They didn’t check the island—had no reason to. He was a moron. He should have looked everywhere and checked under every damn rock until he found his child.

The dark shore was nearing, and Regis felt like his heart could truly beat through his chest at any moment. Ardyn stood on the dock, doing a mock bow as he swept his hat off his head, one foot forward and cut at the waist.

“Your Majesty! What a pleasure!” He called as the crew around him began to move to moor the boat. Clarus was by his side in a moment, but the king hardly noticed him as he warped—for the first time in nine years—onto the dock to brandish a sword at the fiend that had stolen his child away.

“Enough pleasantries!” He snarled, eyes glinting like tempered steel. “Where is he?!”

“Now who could you possibly be thinking of? Have you lost your pet, your majesty?”

“Enough games, jester.” Regis staggered slightly, finding Clarus suddenly at his side as Cor and Nyx surrounded the foreign chancellor. Ignis stood besides the king, ensuring his care as Clarus retrieved his own blade. “I’ve come at your request. Now bring me to my boy.” Regis called, leaning against Ignis fully. Ardyn laughed, holding up his hands at the barrage of blades that were holding him place.

“Of course!” He drawled, cocking his head to the side. “Call off your dogs and allow me to lead the way.” The soldiers glanced towards their king and only when Regis nodded did they lower their swords, but kept them out. They didn’t trust this man. They knew he could use magic. He’d used it to spirit Noctis out of the castle after all. He spun on his heel, gesturing with his hand for Regis to come to his side. The king slowly moved over, Clarus and Cor flanking him. Ardyn tutted in disapproval but didn’t say anything when Cor gave him a sharp jab in the back.

“As you wish~” He moved forward towards the only building on the island. Regis knew it well, and again came that overwhelming feeling of guilt that his only child had been locked away here for who knows how long. The staircase seemed like it lasted forever, Regis slowly climbing it with the assistance of his retinue. Climbing until they stood before the abandoned building. Ardyn bowed graciously nodding them forward.

“His highness awaits you.” That was all Regis needed to hear. Headstrong he staggered forward, but it was Ignis who raced ahead of him.

“Scientia!” He heard Clarus shout his name, knew that he was out of line, but he couldn’t help himself. He crashed down the stairs of the dimly lit dungeon, barely managing to flick on his light before he found himself in the dank basement.

The air was thick with mold and old blood. Was it Noctis' the mottled red stains that streaked the floor. Had he been tortured? His hand began to shake around his flashlight, and no amount of mental scolding seemed to still the tremor.

Even with his small light, it was hard to see. He flashed it around, moving carelessly. Looking for something human, something _alive_. 

He couldn't find anything, and he felt his frustration growing inside of him like a living serpent. It coiled like a rock in his gut as he continued. He heard the footsteps behind him. Logically he knew who it was, but panic stole that logic from his chest. He had to find Noctis. He had to find his prince.

The beam of light caught on something then, a flash of purple and blue. He stopped, turning the light slowly till he saw the… person… suspended by spears through his chest, abdomen, and torso.

Ignis took a step forward.

They weren’t human… no it couldn’t be.

His breath caught in his throat, because he was crystal.

Completely.

Irrevocably.

Made of solid crystal.

He didn’t know his knees had given until he found himself on the floor, staring up at him.

At Noctis.

He was crying again, but this time it didn’t matter who saw or heard. He’d been too late. A year of praying to the gods, of working days on end, to find his prince looking like a skeleton. To find his prince _dead_.

“Prepare yourself.” That is what Cor had said in the car, but how do you prepare yourself for this? He heard a high keening sob somewhere distantly, and he knew it was himself. He knew that he was broken by this.

“N-Noctis…” he whispered, feeling hands on his shoulders. Someone was speaking his name. Someone was moving in his line of sight. His tunnel vision, honed in on the crystalline prince was broken as slowly Regis approached his child.

No one was at his side, no one supported him.

What do you say in a situation like this?

“… Noctis…” He spoke as if it were the last thing he would possibly say. His hand came to rest on Noctis’s bare chest. Looking for a heartbeat. Looking for something. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t find anything.

It was clear even from where Ignis had fallen.

Part of him thought that maybe this was a trick by the empire, that they had made a statue of Noctis and suspended it here. Part of him wanted to believe that there was still something to hold onto. So lost in his misery, Ignis barely saw the movement.

Clarus shouted, Cor lunged, but it was the clash of Nyx’s knife with the mysterious blade that saved the King’s life.

The glaive warped just in time as the prince—dead—opened his eyes and let out a piercing scream and summoned his armiger.

Ardyn’s laughter haunted his dreams, but the sound of Noctis screaming, that would be Ignis's waking nightmare.


	21. Silent Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I seriously suck at writing fight scenes XD   
> Lets go me!

_“Hey Ignis…”_

_“What is it, Your Highness?” Ignis looked up from the armchair he’d pulled next to the prince’s bed. He slowly set down his thick books, carefully_ tabbing _the page as he turned his full attention to the injured Prince. “Are you in pain again? Shall I fetch the doctors?”_

_“No no, I’m fine…” The nine year old prince buried his fingers into his white duvet, twisting the fabric as he bit his lip. He looked away from his friend, turning towards the moonlit night. He had just laid down for a nap, but as often was the case nowadays, he had fallen asleep well into the night. He had woken up an hour ago but had remained quiet. “Dad was crying… He didn’t know I was there… B-but… I saw him with Clarus…”_

_Ignis blinked in shock, watching the little prince sniffle. He was biting his lip, trying to quell his tears but they leaked out, dotting his bunched fists. His sobs were the only sound in the room. He couldn’t believe Noctis was crying. He hadn’t cried since returning from Tenebrae. He hardly spoke, never laughed. But crying…_

_“Your Highness…” Ignis trailed off, standing slowly and approaching the prince like he was a scared animal. He didn’t know how to handle a crying prince. He didn’t know who his prince was anymore if he was being honest. He certainly wasn’t the happy boy who explored the citadel and played pranks on the guards. He was just a shell of himself._

_“It’s my fault.” He whispered, hardly looking up at Ignis’ presence. “I got hurt and I made things difficult for everyone… it would have been better ” Ignis stared, recalling what the doctors had mentioned. Survivor's guilt. “Prince Noctis, it is not your fault that you were attacked.” “I wasn’t strong enough, Iggy…”_

_“You were only eight. Besides! Everyone is beyond happy that you survived! I-I'd be lonely without you!”_

_"I don't do anything." He whispered, glancing up at Ignis before he turned away from him. “I… I don’t want to make him cry ever again, Iggy.” He looked up, red skin making his blue eyes look cloudy. “I don’t want to make anyone cry.” He slowly turned over, his back to Ignis as he shook under the covers. Ignis watched him, feeling helpless. With a tiny sigh he nodded his head._

_“As you wish, Highness.” He vowed, hand over heart. “Your wish is my desire.”_

* * *

Nyx felt like his arm was going to break off, even simply deflecting the blows sent him stumbling back. He couldn’t connect the monster in front of him with the prince he’d served for so many years. If the shocked looks were anything to go off of, no one else could either.

Noctis wasn’t moving, hanging like a crucified saint with his arms extended to the sides and legs dangling below him. The damage was clear, Nyx could tell even from here. Not that it mattered.   
The prince was dead.

Or at least, he should be.

If there was any mercy at all then he was dead and couldn’t feel the damage done to his body.

Still, his armiger was whirling around him, brighter than the kings or any of the royals that Nyx had seen in his lifetime. Regis' own sword looked practically pale compared to the neon luster of his son’s.

Nyx warped out of the way of a broadsword, eyes widening when Clarus managed to shield him from an attack. He took a shaky breath, not realizing that he was gasping and looked around. Regis was on one knee, Ignis by his side. Cor and Clarus were managing to deflect the blows for the most part, but that wasn’t getting them anywhere! Noctis wasn’t moving—it wasn’t clear he was even conscious of using his magic.

_Was there even a way to stop him?_

“Nyx!” The glaive leapt out of the way of a pole arm that nearly impaled him, barely managing the feat. He thanked Cor who deflected another polearm. “Stay alert, Ulric.” He snapped, the edge of his voice shaking.

That is what disturbed Nyx the most.

Not the prince nor the crystal, but Cor visibly shaken.

Cor moved forward, eyes lowered as he dodged

“We have to stop him—subdue him somehow.” Nyx bit out, trying to get closer only to be repelled back by the prince’s engine blade. “He’s relentless! Standing still isn’t helping anymore!” Cor and Clarus shared a glance which Nyx couldn’t decipher. They _had_ to stop the prince. They had come this far.

But could they? Could they truly stop him and save him at the same time? No, they couldn’t give up. At the very least they would retrieve his body—give him a proper Lucian funeral.

At the very least they would bring him home.

Nyx's thoughts stopped dead in their tracks when he saw Regis move forward. He didn’t hold his cane and even if there was pain in his legs, he didn’t show it. He took one small step forward, brandishing his sword like he’d never left the battlefield. Blocking Noctis’ broadsword, sidestepping the polearms. His eyes were red-rimmed and broken.

“Noctis.” His voice was a tether, making his men fight harder to give him an opening. To give him a chance to reach his child. But the prince was ruthless, his armiger attacking indiscriminately. His katana carved into Nyx’s side. His sword nicked Cor’s shoulder.

“Please son… I do not know what powers you… but I do know that your spirit is in pain. It is time to let go… I am so sorry it took so long for me to find you but I am here now. It’s time to let go.” Regis called, his voice shaking as he stepped closer, finally resting his hand against Noctis’ chest. His body shook but as soon as his hand touched, the prince’s armiger disappeared. Regis forced a small smile, glancing back, nodding at his men. Clarus and Cor approached slowly, nervously. Regis held onto the prince’s sides.

“We’re cutting you down now, Noctis.” The soldiers cut the chains together, all eyes on the crystalline prince. He didn’t move. There was no great awakening. The prince simply fell and the three men caught him.

“There you go.” Regis kept talking, unable to support the weight of his child. He couldn't fix his son, at least not with his current knowledge, but he could let him know what was happening. Noctis hadn't had control over his body for an entire year (maybe even longer if Regis was honest). Regis would at least let him know what was happening now.

“Well it appears you have been reunited with your wayward prince.” Ardyn’s voice floated through the dungeon, sending chill’s down the king’s spine. He saw red for a moment, the dungeon fading and rather than holding a crystal, he was holding his beloved baby son, looking down at the bundled infant. He heard Noctis' coo, he heard the bright laughter of infancy. He couldn't control his breathing, his chest pumping as he stared at the illusion before it faded to nothing again.

His body stood on its own, eyes darkening into red beams. His rage radiated off his body.

“You…” He whispered, struggling to speak through the anger that boiled his blood. He opened his mouth to say more, but found he couldn’t say anything. He looked back at the men who had held his hand during the darkest months of his life. His breath hitched a bit as he looked down at the statue of his son. “Ardyn…”

“In the flesh.” Ardyn bowed as he strolled forward. He chuckled, patting Ignis’s shaking shoulders before he stopped before Regis. Nyx darted forward, holding out his knife with a rueful chuckle.

“Back away from the King if you value your life.” Ardyn laughed brightly, bowing his head to the group.

“If I value my life? Well that certainly is an interesting turn of phrase.” He stepped up, mere feet from Regis. “But my life isn’t what you should be concerning yourself with.” He nodded towards the statue. Regis grit his teeth, summoning his sword and stabbing it forward before he could think about it. But there was no guilt behind his action, but cold Ardyn glanced down, laughing curiously.

“It has been some time since someone stabbed me. Almost a year exactly.” He slowly walked back, eyes glittering like Gil, until the sword was out of him. “Excellent aim. If I were mortal, perhaps that would have killed me. Now, shall we have a conversation like civilized adults?”

“Conversation…?” Ignis’s voice cut through the room. He slowly stood up, eyes radiating exhausted panic. The poor young man couldn't handle this world, where Noctis was nothing but a rock. This was too cruel! “You want to have a conversation with us now… after you stole Noctis?!” Ignis snarled, darting forward to stab the man.

“YOU TOOK HIM FROM US!” He roared, carving into his body over and over. “He didn’t do anything! HE DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE!!!”

“Die~?” Ardyn chuckled softly, summoning a scythe. It glittered like oil in the sunlight, reflecting the rainbow iridescence that the prince's body reflected. He shoved the Chamberlain back. Ignis fell on his ass, watching as the prince lit up upon Ardyn’s command. Ignis’s eyes widened, horrified, as he watched magic flow out from the prince into the chancellor.

“Why, the prince isn’t dead~ Although, I’m certain he wishes it was~ Isn’t that right, PRINCE NOCTIS!” Eyes turned to stare at the prince, the men letting out shouts as he slowly opened his eyes. Ardyn’s laugh rang around them, blinded by the glow of the magic in Noctis eyes. Ignis felt his heart stop. No heartbeat. No pulse. But Noctis was blinking slowly. Ignis had no pride left, crawling on his hands and knees to desperately clutch the crystalline arm. It was moving. The arms slowly moved to tug desperately as the spears impaling him. He made a noise, but it was like no sound he’d heard before. A mixture of crystals scratching and a high pitched whine. It wasn’t human, but it sounded so close to it. It sounded like begging. Ignis grabbed one of the hands, staring at the prince.

At Noctis.

“Noct…” He whispered, trying to smile. The prince stared at him, letting out a piercing shriek before slapping Ignis away. Ignis blinked in shock, holding his cheek, feeling the burn of magic like acid across his skin. He clawed at it, pinching his eyes together as he tried to keep from crying out. Was this what Noctis felt as his body turned to crystal? His heart hammered against his chest, his breath coming in small desperate gasps. It hurt so badly, how could Noctis have handled this!?

Ardyn laughed easily, walking towards Noctis slowly. Nyx moved to stop him but Ardyn waved his hand and the poor man flew across the room. He stood before Cor and Clarus, the two men brandishing their weapons. 

"It's over, Izunia." Cor snapped, showing his youthful recklessness as he sprinted forward to cut the man in half. Ardyn's laughter rang out, cutting through the clash of weapons as he used his scythe to sweep Cor to the side like a green recruit. 

"No, silly king's dog." He waved his hand towards the statue, sending a wave of magic through the air. It felt like all the moisture in the air evaporated, leaving the chancellor grinning over the fallen men. Only Clarus remained in front of him, eyes narrowed but silent. He had no need for trash talk. No need for exclamations. He would protect his king silently at his side. He'd already failed so many times. He wouldn't fail again. 

Suddenly a sharp pain cut through his stomach. His eyes widened slightly, looking down as the point of the engine blade poked out his abdomen. He opened his mouth, tasting the bitter iron of blood. Slowly he turned, staring at the crystalline prince, body cursed with dark veins that polluted the beautiful blue of his crystal body. 

“Now now, my little song-bird. Is that any way to greet your friends?” Ardyn tutted, hands on his hips with a disapproving pout. The king was shouting, supporting Clarus. Ardyn rolled his eyes. "So dramatic." Ardyn hummed, taking a final step forward, standing above Regis and Clarus. "Aren't you happy to see your son again, King Regis."


	22. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. We've done it bois -w- I was gonna make this an extra long chapter but I decided to split it up ;u; Thank you to everyone who has read this? Honestly you guys make me feel so good about absolutely destroying the characters I love :D

The room was deathly silent save for the chancellor's deep laughter and the muffled breathing of the king's shield as he slowly looked down at the sword that poked through his abdomen. 

“Oops, sorry, we’re still working on his aim~” Ardyn called as it were nothing more than a missed toss. He sighed, strolling around the circle of protection that the king's men were attempting to offer their liege, and with a wave of his hand sent more inky tendrils racing through the young prince. Like a puppet master, he played with the prince and made him slowly rise up. His laughter was wild, eyes alight as the crystalline boy bade his every command. Not even the spears that impaled him stopped him from moving. Regis' eyes didn't stray from his child for a second. It was one thing to see his armiger, but to see this crystal move and stagger like his... like his son? It was almost too much for him to handle. 

As Noctis took a shaky step back, the men scattered to give him room, forming a wider circle around him. At first, no one said anything, but then those eyes turned and stared at the king. Regis’s eyes widened in hope. First his eyes, now his body. Noctis was moving, but it took only a few seconds for him to realize that it wasn’t his son in control. His son wouldn’t slowly twist the blade within Clarus, the king’s shield gritting his teeth to try and stall the waves of agony that rolled through him.

“NOCTIS!” He cried out, the king grabbing the blade inside of Clarus only to be repelled backwards. His head slammed into the wall, knocking him senseless and leaving him gasping as he tried to make sense out of the now spinning world.

“Oh dear, did you say something?” Ardyn called, waving his hand out and causing the puppet prince to slowly slide the sword out of Clarus, taking his time to make sure the shield was screaming. No, this wasn’t his son. Regis knew his son. His body shook as he sat up, pushing away Cor’s helping hand.

“Noctis… Noctis I know that is not you!” He called, keeping a hand out to steady himself. “You are stronger than you believe, son.” He plead to the statue, only to have the monster that his son had become turn on him. His engine blade was slick with Clarus’ blood, and in a brief moment of thought, Regis was thankful that Gladio was probably still in Galdin. No, now was not the time to think as he leveled the sword at his only son.

“You are actually attacking your only son?” Ardyn called with a low chuckle. He was approaching again, like a predator cornering his prey. “My, this should be interesting~” Ardyn snapped his fingers, the dark veins in Noctis pulsing and earning another agonized shriek from his child. Regis’ body clenched, tears fuzzing his vision.

“ENOUGH OF THIS, JESTER! If you wish to fight, then attack me yourself, coward!” Or at least, let us move the battle away from the wounded, he thought as he cast a glance back at his friends. They were as stubborn as him, desperately trying to pretend they hadn't been injured by Noctis. Whether it was out of loyalty of stubbornness was hard to determine, but it didn't matter. The room was painted with his friend's blood.

Cor had passed Clarus a potion, kneeling beside where the shield had fallen to one knee. But they never bowed their heads, eyes staring through the darkness at the man that held their prince as a living captive. The rage compacted into their stares was like a laser beam, as if they foolishly hoped that they could fell the daemonic man with the combined weight of their stares. But even this didn't seem to phase the man. Regis would have even wagered that the man was enjoying the attention, grinning at the soldiers with his dead gold eyes. There was something dark flickering behind them, something that Regis feared his son had met. 

The chancellor hummed thoughtfully at Regis’ exclamation, leaning against his scythe as he rocked his head back and forth. He considered the proclomation, glancing at his jewel and where it stood, ready to draw his sword once again, hand raised in the air just above his chest. It was a move he'd seen in the few times that Noctis had managed to escape. Of course, he never got far. It was as if he drew his blade from his very chest. _How Poetic._

“Fine.” Ardyn reached up, taking his hat and tossing it onto Noctis’ head. As soon as the fabric ghosted his head, the boy began to shut down, the glow of magic within him dimming and his eyes shut like a machine powering down before he was completely still once again. 

It took the king’s breath away to once again see his son still and lifeless.

He shouldn’t be like this.

He shouldn’t be still and cold.

No. Regis had failed him yet again.

The king’s rage turned into fury as his armiger sprung to life in a cascade of shattering crystals and the hum of magic. The royal arms—weapons Noctis had yet to master but seemed able to command, spun in a flurry of passion. That was a mystery for another day and just another question in the increasingly lengthy list.

In the king's hand was his own sword, sharp and worthy of combat. He didn’t hesitate as he lashed forward, striking Ardyn again and again. But to his surprise, the jester parried every blow and blocked every thrust. He danced around the royal arms like they were ornaments dangling from trees. The man, so bulky in profile, moved like a dancer, holding his scythe close. He wasn’t attacking, merely enjoying the desperation that fueled the king. His eery smile caught the light of the blades, made Regis sick to his stomach.

“DAMNIT!” He roared, casting his free hand forward and sending a volley of strikes in.

“Now, this is the show I’ve been waiting for, your majesty! 2000 years of waiting! You won’t be the one to vanquish me, but I appreciate the effort.” He called out in his tender accent. Regis stabbed forward with a cry, feeling his heart stop when there was nothing but an after-image of the vulgar man standing in front of him. He felt a cold hand on his shoulder, and the tickle of hair on his neck.

“REGIS!”

“YOUR MAJESTY!” He heard Cor and Clarus call out respectively, but they sound so distant. Like someone shouting in a dream. No, there was only one voice he could hear…

* * *

“REGIS!” Clarus shouted, shoving Cor away and swinging his broadsword with the intention of murdering the bastard that had put his closest friend through a year’s worth of heartbreak. However, at the moment of contact, the man disappeared, leaving only a hazy red afterimage of the bastard and the king trembling. He canted forward, but Clarus was ready, casting aside his sword to catch the man.

“Regis. Your majesty.” Clarus called, shaking the king’s shoulders as he stared into his eyes. The man blinked rapidly, as if dispelling an illusion, before finally meeting Clarus’ stony gaze.

“He’ll be back… We have to go… Now.” Regis whispered, staggering to his feet, but found that the adrenaline had left him and he careened forward, only to find the support of Clarus yet again.

"Your majesty, what did he say--" He cut himself off when he saw the fear--not anger or sadness--but the sheer terror that rolled off his closest friend. He didn't need to know what that man had said to scare Regis so badly. He needed to do his job.

“Right away, Majesty.” Clarus replied, glancing over at the statue of Noctis. After all these months, all the nights of desperately looking, the hours sat in prayer, they were bringing the prince home. But... what _were_ they bringing home? Not the bratty teen that had been spirited away so long ago. Was it even humane to keep the child in limbo? To allow his spirit to be tormented in this stone body? The Shield bit his lip, for he didn't know the right answer. The sound of the prince's scream still hung in the air, like a permanent reminder of the boy's torment. It had been branded into their minds. His cold eyes traveled to Regis who clung to his arm, his eyes never once leaving the prince. He saw his lips moving, possibly in a prayer. Wouldn't it be easier to let Noctis go? It was a selfish thought, but then there would be an end to the suffering--

Clarus stopped that train of thought, for he knew that Noctis' death--while possibly peaceful for the child--would only begin the pain for his father. No father should outlive his children. He knew that, thinking of his son and daughter. He loved them more than words could ever say, and more than he had ever tried to express. If they were before him like this, would he end their suffering? Or would he hold on with the single-minded hope that he'd be able to bring them back? He sighed, turning towards the three remaining men. “You heard his majesty! We’re bringing Noctis home.”


	23. The Prince's Shield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woof, alright so this chapter was a lot of work to write. I dont typically write or rp Gladio so I had to consult my brother (kawaiiaicosplay) on how to do him justice! I hope ya'll enjoy the Shield's return because he is NOT. HAPPY.

He was standing on the dock, prepared to set sail when his phone chattered noisily in his pocket. Gladio shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling the phone out and glaring at the screen as if to punish it for daring to make noise. His eyes darkened further when he saw the caller I.D. as if he didn't know that tone by heart. As if this particular ringtone didn't haunt his nightmares--and increasingly his days. It was his father’s number—but not from his private phone, rather the number he used for emergencies.

For a moment, the shield was frozen, too scared to answer the phone when he knew that it could simply be a casualty report. Still, it was his duty, till the very end. Even if that meant burying his best friend. Some part of him wanted to be selfish and hit the off button. He didn't want to hear any more bad news, he didn't think he could bear hearing that Noctis had been found dead. That it was his body they were retrieving.

Still, he was an Amicitia. He was a man of his word and he swore an oath to his prince till the very end. Even so, that thought didn't shake the anxiety that vibrated his bones.

Stiffly, he hit the green glowing button and raised it to his ear.

“Just tell me.” He snapped before he could control his temper. He didn’t want any dancing around the subject, he didn’t want to be coddled. It sounded harsh but he needed to know, was it a body or a boy that they were bringing home.

“We’re bringing Noctis back to the citadel.”

That was it. Those few simple words cut through the dam that prevented his ragged breaths. Like Titan had lifted the meteor from his shoulders, Gladio found that he could breathe again. For the first time in a year, he let out a desperate gasp, his knees shaking as he reached out to steady himself against one of the dock posts. Noctis was coming home.

“Is he okay?” He heard himself distantly ask. Of course, he wasn't okay, but he was alive! He was alive and anything else could be healed! He was the Prince of Lucis! He would be okay. His thoughts were nearing hysteria, adrenaline flushing his system out and those angry needles poking at his eyes.

“Gladiolus…” Clarus’ voice shook, something anxious and fearful that stopped the hope that was unfurling within Gladio. Clarus didn’t scare easily, but this entire situation had shaken him in a way that Gladio didn’t know how to handle. There was no guide to having your closest friend kidnap, no Wiki-how on how to grieve, or when to move on. None of them knew what to do and they were trying their best so Gladio allowed the quivering voice to slide. He didn’t think he could handle pointing it out to his father anyways. He should be happy too. He should be smiling because Noctis was family! But he wasn't. Even over the phone, Gladio could recognize the sorrow in his father's voice. So why? Why was did he still sound so broken.

"Dad?" Gladio asked hesitantly, lowering his voice as several crownsguard walked by.

“Please prepare yourself. I’ll see you back at the Citadel.” Gladio moved to interrupt but Clarus’ voice overpowered his quickly. “I’ll explain everything to you when I return. You’ll be able to see him for yourself. Unfortunately, his condition is not easily explained with words alone.” There was a pause, voices in the background. He recognized Cor and then there was Regis. He was talking but the phone's speaker garbled whatever he was saying.

“I need to go help his majesty. When we arrive we’ll need one of the hospital rooms cleared. Tell the chief resident to get a team ready.” Gladio blinked silently, a little shocked by the sudden orders after the rush of emotions he'd just been through. He found that he was still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened, everything that Clarus had said in the past few minutes. There was a ringing in his ears—he didn’t know when it had begun but it was getting louder and louder until it was all he could hear. His heart hammered against his chest because he needed to know more. A hospital room meant he was injured, but what kind of condition couldn't be explained by words alone? Clarus certainly wasn't the most eloquent guy, but he worked for the crown and knew how to talk bullshit with the best of the council. So why wasn't he telling him this? Why was he keeping secrets...

“GLADIOLUS!” He snapped out of his stupor, letting out a grunt of affirmation.

“Hospital room, doctors,” Gladio mumbled, nodding his head even though Clarus couldn’t see him. “Got it. I’ll get right on it.”

“Please do. I will need to stay at the citadel until we figure this all out. Regis needs me. I need to be able to count on you… we can’t get more people involved.” His sigh was weak over the phone.

“I’ll call Iris, have her bring some spare clothes from the house.” Gladio could almost see the small curve of his father’s lips.

“Thank you, Son. I… I” Clarus’ voice slipped there, before he cleared his throat and let out a grunt. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Right.” There was a long silence, things unsaid but neither man could fill in the growing gap. The younger amicitia sighed softly. “Bye, dad.” He finished the call, slowly bringing his phone down from his ear. He couldn’t break yet. He still had a job to do and to his knowledge a prince to protect. His fingers found the little Moogle charm clipped to his phone and found himself warming.

His sister had given this to him years ago: a good luck charm. He never could bring himself to remove the small charm and now he finally found himself thankful for the childish trinket because it reminded him of what he was trying to protect. It reminded him of laughter and cup noodles and Chocobos and video games and of the people he’d chosen as his family.

He would be strong for a little longer. He had no choice. With a small sigh he finally raised his head to look at the soldiers that had inched closer to him, waiting for their orders. Gladio may not be their superior, but Clarus sure was. The prince’s shield looked back at the crownsguard men and women who stared back at him. They may not have known the prince like Gladio did, but there was a determination in their eyes that was comforting. They were all here for one purpose. He cleared his throat, carrying his voice over the bustle of the port.

“I have Lord Amicitia’s orders, lets get moving!”

* * *

He sat in the room alone, sitting on one of the two chairs left in the room. He knew that Regis would need one, even if he insisted he didn’t. Other than that, the room was empty save for the machines that were pressed into the wall. The window was open, letting in the light of Lucis and Gladio found himself soaking in the rays. He hadn't been able to relax in a long time. He knew that Noctis' return would be difficult, but he'd rather it be difficult than hopeless. 

He'd relayed his father's orders obediently and soon the very best doctors the citadel had to offer were assembling, ready to provide the royal family with anything they could possibly need. There may be some downsides to being royalty--but access to good health care definitely wasn't one of them. Even now, he could hear the doctors and nurses chattering outside the room, but it had long since faded into white noise for the young shield. He really didn't want to hear their speculations and their guesses as to the state of their prince or what had happened to him during his kidnapping.

No, all he wanted to think about was the fact that _Noctis_ was coming home. Gladio found himself looking down at his calloused fingers, staring at the hard-won scars. He’d trained his entire life—letting himself get beaten half to death by the crowns guard and kingsglaive all in the service of his prince. He'd been in service since he was ten and he'd known his duty before even that. He was proud of his job and his role in Noctis' life--most of the time. At least when the kid wasn't acting like... well, _a kid._ And he, the prince's sworn shield, had allowed that filthy Nif to walk out of the citadel with Noctis in his arms. There were some types of guilt that never really left you and Gladio feared this would haunt him to his grave.

_It was Ignis who stood by and watched._

That damned voice in his head hissed cruelly back at him, fueling that dark part of Gladio that wanted to punch the chamberlain in the face. He bit the inside of his cheek, clenching his fists. He stood up, hoping to calm the storm in his head by doing some squats or push-ups or _something_. Anything, really, to distract him from those dark thoughts and the rage that had no outlet.

He launched himself into a workout, honing his body so that when his prince came back-- _when_ not _if_ \--he would be able to protect him from anything. In the middle of his sit-ups, he heard the white noise outside the room was increasing. Gladio turned towards the door, slowly standing up and taking a deep breath. This would be the last moment of peace before Noctis' arrival--the last moment of doubt. He opened his eyes and stepped back just before a hurricane crashed into the room.

Regis was a silent cloud, eyes no longer the empty shells they had been these past couple of months. There was hope once again, and then there was Ignis. Looking disheveled and with a nasty limp, but every bit the young man that had trained with Gladio less than a year ago. Even with strands of his hair falls down from his ridiculous hair cut to frame his dirty face. The foamy green eyes were no longer hazy. They were sharp—daggers. This was the Ignis he remembered.

Bitterness burrowed its way into his skin, making him feel itchy, making his tattoo prickle. It wasn’t even done yet, there were still feathers to be filled in. This was his oath to Noctis, this was his vow. Ignis wore no such banner. He swore no such vow before the council, before the king! Gladio looked down at his angry fists and the white knuckles that signaled his rage.

But they weren’t alone. Ignis was speaking, helping to guide something in.

Gladio looked up, following his voice and the world disappeared. All around him, the sounds were drowned out by that eerie ringing. The light focused solely on the doorway and for the shield, nothing else existed at that moment as Nyx, Cor and his father pushed him into the room.

Noctis wasn’t alive, that _thing_ couldn’t be alive.

No.

Noctis was his oldest friend, the man he had sworn his life to. He was also a brat, a selfish kid who liked to skip out on his duties, who liked to go to the arcade and spend his extensive allowance on tickets and coins. He was a kid who styled his hair like some punk-rocker and who liked to doodle carbuncle’s during council meetings. He was the prince who read reports until dawn looking for anyway to help the out lying towns. He was the man that trained until his fingers were raw and blistered and then slept till noon. Noctis was a living, breathing person who wasn’t some damned title! He was a prince, a friend, a son, a… a _Brother_.

And all at once he was none of that.

The light from the window shined through his blue crystalline body, refracting on the wall in a kaleidoscope that never should have existed. A mirage that had destroyed Gladio’s well built world with a single blow.

He didn’t notice when suddenly there were arms around him—hugging him. He didn’t recognize that it was in fact his father who was holding him close and tight, like he would fade away. He let out a shaky breath as he heard his dad murmuring gently. His dad never did this, never got emotional when on the job, but he could feel his father’s shaky breath against his hair, and feel his hand pressed hard against his back. Gladio slowly returned the gesture, eyes shaky as he ducked his head away from the frozen prince.

“Dad…” Clarus pulled back slowly, bowing his head for a moment before he was able to straighten up.

“Im just glad you’re safe.” Clarus murmured sounded shattered underneath his rough exterior. Those words were worse than a bullet to the shield.

 _S_ _afe_. He was _safe_ and his charge was, was… was _what_!? Was he alive or dead? Hurt or healthy!? He wasn’t bleeding or screaming, there was no voretooth or MT to destroy. There was nothing but his frozen face and the King of Lucis looking like nothing more than a helpless father.

A father… because Noctis, before he was a prince, was a child. He had a family. He had _dreams_. 

Gladio stepped forward, hand stretched out and wavering before he found the courage to touch the cool crystal. It was like nothing he'd felt before, cold and smooth almost to the point of being slimy. He kept pulling his hand back, expecting it to come back wet but there was nothing. His hand slowly moved, ghosting from Noctis' arm to his chest. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Certainly not a heartbeat, but still… when his hand pressed against his chest, there was something warm. No gentle rhythm or desperate flutter, just a reassuring warmth in the crystal’s most opaque part. He bit his lip lightly. He was still taller than his charge. Like this, the prince looked tiny. But there was warmth.

“Hey princess,” he rumbled, pressing his fingers a little harder into the surface. “You finally made it back home. Sorry it took so long to find yah but… you’re home. You’re safe.” Each word came out as a low vow, something soft and sacred. His eyes glistened as he looked up into the prince’s closed eyes. He thought he saw something flicker. Maybe a movement. Maybe life. But the lids were firmly shut and he chastised himself for thinking that his words would awaken the prince. Clearly, the king's hadn’t. Gladio wasn’t special. He wasn’t worthy of being a shield. Even if deep down he had thought that he’d be able to awaken Noctis.

He thought that if he could just see Noctis, just get his hands around that scrawny prince, then he’d be able to protect him from everything. From any villain and every harm. He thought that he was strong enough to be his shield but he was just as helpless as everyone else in the room.

“He won’t respond.” The sharp crack of Ignis’s voice stirred Gladio. It made him see red as Ignis entered his peripheral vision.

“Yeah. Got that.” Gladio snapped out, allowing tension to billow around him. Ignis was moving forward--to do what, Gladio didn't know--but something territorial and ugly reared its head as he practically snarled at the man.“You guys got your reunions, let me have mine.”

“You’re getting in the way of his examination,” Ignis replied, all cold facts and order. Gladio froze.

“Getting in the _way_?” He turned, venom pooling in his veins as he took a step towards the advisor. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me, Ignis. I wanted one moment, one SECOND with Noctis and you gotta butt in? No one is examining him! WHAT’S THERE TO EXAMINE!? HE’S A FUCKIN ROCK!” He snatched up Ignis collar, tugging him up to eye level. “MY ENTIRE JOB IS TO GET IN THE WAY! IM SUPPOSED TO BE THERE WHEN HE’S HURT AND I WASN’T! YOU WERE! YOU WERE THERE AND WHAT DID YOU DO!? You let that walkin’ curtain sample take ‘im. Well guess what Ignis. You ain’t his shield. You’re useless, _pathetic_. You don’t deserve to be in this room. You don’t deserve to be by his side!” Gladio threw Ignis to the floor, eyes glittering and it’s only Cor’s grip on his bicep that stops him from beating the man he once called his friend.

Part of him wants to storm off, to find a quiet place and just grieve. To feel everything he’d suppressed till now, but he can’t. He wouldn’t leave Noctis’ side ever again. He tried to shake Cor off but found that the man had a vice-like grip — not that that was a surprise. He turned to look at him, and although the Marshal was thin-lipped and terse he let out a sigh.

“Gladio, he’s _home_. There’s no army to fight. Your anger helps no one, especially not Noctis.” His words were grounding. He was a strong man, in body and spirit. Still, Gladio could see the red rimmed eyes and the grey in his hair. The marshal was only human, and a man that cared deeply for the royal family even when he didn’t show it.

Now his grip was grounding the young shield, reminding him of his duty and the weight he would now—and always—carry with him. Gladio looked at Noctis again, letting out a shaky sigh as he examined the spears that were impaling him, and the collar on his throat and wrists. The parts of his imprisonment that even the crystal couldn’t erase… but Gladio could. He braced his hand against Noctis’s chest—because it wasn’t a crystal, it was his brother—and with his other, he wrapped it around the spear closest to Noctis’ heart and wrenched it out. The room was silent, but Gladio allowed himself a bittersweet smile.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’m here now.” Gladio swore once again, grabbing the next spear. “I’m never leaving again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DONT HATE ON GLADDY! I know a lot of people will not be happy with his argument but I cant imagine Gladio reacting any other way.   
> Fun fact! This is the longest chapter I think? I really just wanted to do Gladio justice after he kinda got dicked by the game, fandom and DLCs.  
> I was up editing this at 1:48 while sick so Im super sorry if it's a little rough at the end. Honestly though, it was really fun digging into gladio's character. And also poor Clarus. That poor man just wants to protect everyone. 
> 
> Too bad I like whump (-3-)
> 
> I hope y'all are still enjoying this series as much as I am! Your kudos and comments make my day~!   
> ~ Shin


	24. Time to Wake Up, Prince Noctis

After the first spear was wrenched from Noctis, and that horrific sound filtered from his crystalline lips, Ignis was moving. Hands were wrapping around Gladio’s and freezing them where they were poised, ready to remove the second one with a brave—almost stoic—expression. He wanted to be angry at him for doing this, but he didn’t see vengeance, just guilt. Just anger at himself and Ignis’s burden melted a little.

“He’s in pain Ig… I… I can’t let him stay in pain.” Gladio whispered to the chamberlain, eyes trembling as they gripped the next spear tightly. “I have to protect him.”

“…Gladio.” Ignis moved to touch his hands. His bitterness was dripping off him, disappearing into the tense environment. “It’s not your fault that he’s like this. So please, do not take your anger out foolishly."

“No! We’re taking these damned things out.” He swore, that frustration manifesting as rage as he glared at Ignis with all the force he could manage in his grieving amber eyes. “He’s not gonna stay in pain one second longer.” He wrenched the second spear out, making Ignis stumble back at the shrieking noise that escaped from his frozen friend. His glasses fogged up from the heat of his tears, and his stomach clenched, riding out the sound of Noctis being internally ripped apart.

 _He couldn’t do anything._ Everyone in the room was shifting, uncomfortable, but part of them knew that this was necessary. This was the first step to healing Noctis. But in the end, Ignis was yet again powerless. He’d been too scared to pull those spears out—but, to be fair, he didn’t even think about Noctis being in pain. He hadn’t considered his best friend hurting. Part of him, no matter how small, thought that Noctis wasn’t human anymore. And if he wasn’t human, then he couldn’t feel pain.

 _Draconian above, what have I become!?_ He thought this as he tugged at his hair, pulling it in chunks.

Sure, they could have done testing—seen if the crystal was merely a shell encompassing the young prince. They could have waited—allowed the paper-white king to leave the room while they wrenched the spears out of his son—not that anyone was ready to go.

But Gladio didn’t hesitate. He never did. Not when it came to his prince.

And in the end, that is what Noctis needed. He needed someone strong to protect him—someone, that wouldn’t dance around the subject. Someone that allowed themselves to feel. Underneath Noctis’ screaming, Ignis heard the soft whisper of Gladio’s warm voice as he removed the next spear.

“Scream kid, I know it hurts like hell. But you’ll feel better, I promise. I won’t even make you do extra laps or nothin’… just let it out.” Gladio’s voice was a soft mantra of reassurances and gentle love. Even so, he could only take Noctis screaming so much and soon his hands were shaking as he gripped the fifth pole. His eyes swam with tears—although he would deny it if anyone ever pointed it out. He began to pull back, trying to hide his red, teary face when gloved hands joined him.

“Gladio is right, Noctis. You’re going to feel worlds better once we remove these bloody things.” His grip was firm, never relenting as together they pulled out the fifth spear, letting it clang to the floor in a clatter of angry noises that seemed foreign in this silent room with too much left unsaid. The two members of the prince’s entourage looked at each other, the shield smiling tersely as the prince’s scream rattled off like he was in the throes of death itself.

Cor’s hands were unflinching on the sixth spear, pulling it out with little ceremony or drama. The crystal itself was beginning to quake under the constant strain as the spears that had kept him in pain for so long were finally removed. Cor’s hand was steadying and gentle as he laid the spear down and ran his knuckles down the prince’s back like he was a little child. He was soft but firm until the trembling stopped.

“That's my boy.” Cor murmured gently, cracking a smile at the young prince. “You’re going to be alright.”

“Why is he moving?” Regis asked softly, stepping forward to rest his hand against Noctis’ chest. There was only one more spear, and it ran directly through his heart. Regis looked hesitant, tears already running like free fall down his cheeks—insistent and unabashed.

“I do not know, your majesty.” Clarus murmured, touching the final spear. “One more…”

“It’s hitting a major organ,” Ignis whispered, rubbing his mouth anxiously. Gladio nodded, staring at the prince with a tiny smile.

“So pulling this out could kill him? When all the other’s didn’t?” Gladio scoffed a little, but his voice was shaky. The other spears were removed with adrenaline and now this final one… they all realized that they were leaving holes in Noctis. That removing this spear would leave a hole in his heart. Noctis could die. But even so, part of the shield thought that it honestly didn’t matter. He stepped up, pressing his hand close to the impalement, mouth near the boy’s ear.

“Noctis… if you want to let go… I won’t blame you.” Gladio whispered, knowing that no one would hear him as he ripped the last spear out of him like it was nothing more than a dirty bandaid. He dropped the spear and wrapped his arms around his friend as he released that blood-curdling scream one final time. Ignis watched and found his feet moving and arms suddenly joining with Gladio as he held the boy. Gladio gladly accepted the company, tears running down his face as the boy they both loved suffered, and there was simply nothing they could do about it.

“I’m sorry…” Ignis cried, letting his voice be drowned out by the shrieking statue. “I’m sorry I let you be stolen. I'm sorry I didn’t find you sooner. Damnit, Noct, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from this suffering!” The screaming was beginning to fade, but Gladio heard. His eyes were weakly shaking as his large hand found Ignis’s.

“He’s home now.”

“NO.” Ignis ripped away suddenly, all of his composure fleeing him. Those lemongrass eyes were shaking in his milky white eyes that were strained by tears. “He’s not home because if he were home, he would be laying in bed! He’d be answering me! He’d be whining about vegetables! He’d be… He-he….” Firm arms found him, thinning but thick with royal black fabric. His eyes were trembling—how could he be this weak in front of his king?

“Ignis…” The king hugged him like he was his son, arms strong—where did he get this strength? After all these months of mourning his son? For a moment he closed his eyes, letting his forehead dip as he slowly returned the embrace. He didn’t want to admit it, but damn he needed someone to comfort him. He’d run himself ragged trying to find out where Noctis was, was he alive, was he okay? He felt those burning needles in the corners of his eyes and knew that tears were dampening the king’s attire. “He’s here now, that is step one. He’s here. I promise you we will not allow him out of our sights again.” The king consoled gently, stroking the boy’s hair. “Please, take a breath. You will not help Noctis by collapsing.” He looked around at the exhausted company he kept. “None of us are. We need to—“

“… e…lp…….” A broken whisper froze the king, who’s arms retracted from the young advisors to stare at two swirling eyes. Confused, angry, upset, worried eyes that looked like bright galaxies. They were inhuman. They weren’t real, but they reflected the fearful personality inside of the crystal. Gladio took a step back, breath coming in short little gasps as the king moved beyond Ignis to stare at his son’s shaking face. Movement.

“… Noctis…” He breathed his son’s name, catching his breath as he took the final step. “Son…” He pulled the statue into his arms, feeling the limbs move like liquid under him. Just in time as the boy became dead weight in his arms. The air left him, finding that he didn’t have the strength anymore to carry his son. He tried to reason that his child was made of rock—that was the only reason he couldn’t support him anymore. However, part of him saw it as just another failure.

“GET A GURNEY!” The king shouted, shocking the room into movement. They whirled around him; doctors dragged in a large hospital bed—fit for royalty. Regis used the little strength he had and laid Noctis down, staring at him. He didn’t look any different than he had moments ago. He was still crystal. He radiated magic, and when Regis touched him, he felt energy rush into him. He felt sick like he was sapping the strength of his child like a daemon feasting on the magic that resided inside of him.

But he wasn’t frozen anymore. He was blinking slowly, eyes looking around the room with zero recognition. He didn’t respond when his father said his name. He didn’t respond at all. All he did was rasp out those shaking words: “h….el…p…”

Ignis was holding his mouth, trying to slow his breathing but Noctis was awake. He was awake, and he didn’t know he was safe! He didn’t realize that the people that loved him the most in the entire world were there, by his side.

 _Think logically Scientia!_ He turned away—unable to reason while looking at the love of his life pleading for someone to help him.

“C-color of his eyes?” Ignis asked, his voice barely carrying over the continued clamor around them. Clarus had dragged a chair over for Regis so that the king could stay at his son’s side. Cor was barking at the doctors, face contorted in desperation. They all wanted answers. They needed Ignis to be his best self! Gladio was the one to answer him, standing on Noctis's other side with eyes burning flames into the prince’s face.

“Black. They’re black. Completely black.” He shouted back, making the room quiet. Cor and Clarus blinked at the two of them, eyes confused but only for a moment.

“Izunia used black marks under his skin to control him.” Cor offered, sending off the nurse he’d been speaking to. “It seemed whenever he spoke the darkness in Noctis grew."

“The Scourge. I… I suspected it during the fight, but I believe Ardyn may be infected.” He paced back and forth, eyeing the prince’s condition. That’s all that anyone was doing. Staring, hoping, trying to come up with some damned answer as to why this tragedy had occurred their beloved prince — trying to figure out what to do now. None of their plans had included him being home. They all liked to hope that Noctis would be fine—but a year without any demands made—they knew that they were looking for a corpse, not Noctis.

But now he was here. They couldn’t even tell if he was alive or not if they could heal him. But they would damn well try. You could see it in the king’s eyes as he gripped his son’s hand like a lifeline, although which one was drowning was unclear.

Cor, whose expression was usually a neutral disinterest was dipped in pain. He wasn’t heartless. Clarus knew that standing over Regis’s shoulder but still reached out to hold onto the younger man’s shoulder.

Even Gladio was shocked out of his normal anger, and he was walking around the bed on his toes like a damned Chocobo. There was humor in it. Even Ignis had to admit that, but he didn’t say a word. He had to think. He had to be strong enough for all of them. He was the brains when Noctis was too foolish, tired, or weak to think. He would fulfill his role as he always did and this time he wouldn’t fail.

“I think that perhaps Noctis has been infected with it. And if that’s the case—“

“Luna!” Nyx shouted, making Ignis blink and Gladio chuckle. It seemed as if the young glaive’s exclamation cut the tensions like they were puppet strings and everyone’s shoulders fell into subdued laughter. Hopeful smiles. There was something they could do. They weren’t wandering in the darkness anymore.

“Loverboy’s on the right track.” Gladio grinned, hope making him eager. Making him smile and warm like the man he used to be. Even Nyx blushed. He’d remained quiet the entire time but now was grinning crookedly—ready to finally assist. “Lady Lunafreya is still under the Citadel’s protection. If anyone can cure the scourge, then she can!” Even Regis seemed to grow stronger, squeezing Noctis’ hand tightly.

“It may not cure his crystallization… but perhaps it will help with the pain.” Nyx was running out of the room before Ignis even finished the sentence.

The door fell shut with a collective sigh of relief, eyes glittering as unshed tears built up. The room was abuzz—happy for once in a long cold year. No one wanted to say they hoped Noctis would be lucid. No one wanted to put hope out there when it could so easily be crushed by reality, but it was there. Warm and alive in all of their hearts as doctors swarmed the prince.

No one remembered mere hours ago when their crystalline prince had been foisted around like a puppet, nor the fact that their sweet hearted friend had been turned into Niflheim's deadly doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay your comments actually reminded me that although Noctis was going to wake up, the sweet prince wouldn't be the same!  
> I am hopeful you guys will bear with me with these next few chapters.   
> It's gonna be a bumpy ride for everyone (but mostly iggy, Gladdy and Reggie)  
> I love yall~!  
> Keep 'em comments comin'!  
> ~ Love Shinya!


	25. Reprieve

Lunafreya wasn’t quiet when she burst into the room and startled the quiet occupants. She wasn’t a dainty princess as she pushed her way forward to stare down at Noctis. There was a soft sob as she stared at the damaged thing that the room was mourning. One of her oldest friends.

Although over a decade had separated them, their hearts were still intertwined. So few people understood the pressures of royalty growing up—and to add the burden of the world to that—so the two of them had been fast friends. Upon learning of her destiny, she knew she would die long before Noctis. No. She would die _for_ Noctis. She had accepted that fact long ago, but now…

Anger bubbled inside of her, feeling like a vicious daemon clawing inside of her heart. Hadn’t the world robbed Noctis of enough? He would die far too young to give the world back its light. He would lose friends and family along the way. He only had a few more years before that fate would sweep him away in its unending currents and that precious time had been robbed yet again from his unknowing arms.

She didn’t cry often.

Lunafreya had learned early on that tears only hurt others. But now, they flowed hot and heavy down her cheeks. _The unfairness of it all._

Noctis didn’t even know what he was missing. She felt herself settle down on the bed next to him, drinking in his features. His eyes were swirling galaxies of darkness, beautiful blue-violet skin tainted by dark veins that lurked in his core. He was naked. No crystal clothing adorned him. She should feel bashful by that knowledge, but it didn’t change what must be done. If anything, it made her fury grow.

The kings of Lucis lurked within King Regis and Prince Noctis—guardians of the Lucis Caelum line and yet they had watched as their chosen king was defiled and entombed by their crystal. Her hand was moving to his heart, seeking the core of his magical power when a hand lunged forward and closed around her throat.

It was swift and merciless and no one in the room had expected the prince to move.

Luna’s vision darkened with the tightening of the fist.

 _Noctis is killing me_. The thought was a razor through the confusion, leaving her gasping for the air that was being squeezed from her. In a futile reaction, her fingers clawed at his hand, looking for some kind of purchase that would allow her to free herself—but no such luck.

She shut her eyes, heard the room come alive with panicked shouts and felt hands tugging at her, tugging at him. Tears pricked her eyes. Not grief, but true fear that she would fail her friend when he so desperately needed her. _She wasn’t ready_. She had so much left to do. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

The shattering of crystals is what freed her, but introduced her to the worst sound imaginable.

When she was younger, she had often thought about the massacre that led Noctis to Tenebrae, but after this moment she wouldn’t need to wonder what it was like. The scream that came from Noctis as Clarus brought his broadsword down on the arm strangling Luna was like a banshee itself had possessed him. It was drawn out, pained—no, pain was too simple of a word—agonized.

Her eyes flew open, staring at the shattered remnants of Noctis’ right arm like a bad dream. She felt like if she blinked hard enough it would disappear in a dream-like haze. Noctis would stop writhing on the bed, clutching at the jagged stump left over from the rushed amputation. He would stop screaming. He would be _human_ again. 

No one quite knew what to say. Eyes were on Luna, where bruises darkened her pale throat, but they inevitably struggled over to Noctis.

No one wanted to hurt him more than he already was. No one wanted to be the source of his pain, and yet they had managed to hurt him once again.

Arms guided Luna away from the bed—Nyx once again standing besides her as his accusing eyes pinned Noctis to the bed.

Soft fabric brushed against her leg, and she was startled to find Gladio and Ignis on the floor, collecting the pieces of crystal with a frenzy that she had never seen before. Their was panic in their movements. A drive that pushed them to find all of the pieces of their beloved prince. Such devotion could not be bought or bartered for.

“Scourge…” She whispered, cringing at the hitch in her voice but continuing on. She had seen it just before he attacked her. The way the darkness leapt to the surface and took control of his limbs. “I-It wasn’t him. It was the s-scourge.” She approached, but a wary King blocked her path. She wasn’t bullheaded enough to shove by him this time, however. She stared at the terrified look in his eyes. She recalled her brother’s chilling insults, calling Regis a coward. He just looked human. Scared to lose his son who so obviously needed a father. Needed an army.

Luna’s eagerness had earned Noctis more suffering. It was her fault he had been taken in the first place. She looked down, squeezing her fingers together.

“The only way to protect everyone is to remove the scourge from him.” She swore, hand over her heart--hiding the new tremor that radiated through her limbs.

“ _Can_ you heal him?”

“Gladiolus!” Clarus snapped at his mouthy son who had his arms folded over his chest. He only quieted when Luna raised her hand to silence the king’s shield, but Gladio wasn't quite done with the Oracle.

“No, dad. Noctis only has one arm left. He ain’t losin’ that on my watch!” He spat back, eyes flat and ruthless as they pivoted to glare down at the young Oracle.

“It’s fine, Shield Amicitia.” She replied to Clarus who looked ready to deck his son for his insolence. She let out a shaky sigh. Her eyes fluttered over the younger shield who had inched close enough to rest his own large hand against the crystal. He was scared, just like everyone else. His sole purpose was to protect the young prince and she couldn't imagine that guilt that must weigh down those broad shoulders.

She watched his actions with interest. The crystal that resided deep within the citadel was a sacred artifact that only the kings of Lucis were able to touch and harness.

But Noctis was different.

It was clear that he was made of crystalline material, and that it increased his power. She could tell that from her close proximity to the young prince. He radiated magic, so much that it was nearly overwhelming to her senses—her being the oracle she was naturally attuned to magical energy. But he wasn’t rejecting Gladio’s touch.

“This may be a… curious topic but who here has touched Prince Noctis while he’s in this form?”

“Most of us, Lunafreya.” Regis murmured as he returned to the chair closest to his son’s side. Noctis was whimpering, begging for mercy from the unseen attackers as he clung to the stump of his arms. From his chair, eyes tight, Regis watched as Luna placed her hand over Noctis’s heart. They began to glow and the king found himself mesmerized by the Oracle’s power. “I am aware that the crystal is a rather delicate material but at the time we did not have the time to be delicate.”

“No, it is no worries, your majesty.” She promised, smiling easily at him before focusing back on the whimpering prince. Her heart grieved for the pain he must be enduring, but she was resolute. She would not allow him to be in pain any longer, nor would she abandon him in the darkness that plagued him.

He was awake and conscious, which was a good sign that it was possible to rehabilitate him. As the black veins began to retract, her golden glow banishing the darkness within him, she saw that the pained look etched on his features was beginning to melt away. The muscles in his face relaxed and left him actually relaxing on the gurney. Luna pulled her hand back with a little gasp, catching her breath in the arms of the heroic glaive.

“I’m fine.” She murmured, pushing away the concerned looks and standing up again, sitting on the bed next to the prince. She smiled when she saw the familiar blue greeting her in his eyes. It was like seeing the sunrise for the first time in years. She smiled, but simply moved aside so Regis could see his son’s iris’s.

“Noctis. Noctis, my son, are you awake?” He asked, smiling when those crystal lashes batted and then the eyes focused on Regis. The boy stared at him, and then shockingly tears formed in his eyes, little diamonds rolling down his cheeks and pooling in the pillows beside him.

“Da…d?” He asked with a soft hiccup. Regis’ heart stopped in its chest but for the first time in a long, LONG time, he was hopeful. He smiled immediately, grabbing his son’s hand.

“Yeah… Yeah I’m here.” He smiled, dipping his forehead to touch Noctis’. He was caressing his cheeks, not caring that it wasn’t skin he was touching. “I'm here, my star.” He smiled, sitting in the space that Luna had vacated, gently pulling Noctis up into a sitting position before gathering him into his arms. Noctis was whimpering against his chest, but his arms wrapped tightly around his father. The king laughed weakly, kissing his forehead.

“H-h…home?” Noctis rasped out, eyes searching for his father’s like they simply didn’t know where to find them. Like his father would disappear in a blink.

“Yes, my precious starlight.” He murmured gently, pulling back and holding Noctis’ face so that he could stare directly into his eyes. “Home. Surrounded by friends and family. We’re going to protect you this time.” His eyes glowed darkly, radiating anger that made Cor and Clarus shift uncomfortably. “This, we all swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I thought that y'all deserved something a little softer.  
> So did Noctis XD 
> 
> Don't worry! The scourge isn't gone for good! That would be far too easy <3 
> 
> I always have trouble writing Luna, so I hope this turned out okay! Fluff isn't my strong suit, but I needed to make Noctis a LITTLE more lucid before I fucked him--  
> I MEAN~~~
> 
> ALSO! Shout out to the fact that y'all love this. Thank you so much?!   
> One of you mentioned Omen Noctis and yeah! He is a huge inspiration for this whole thing. I am a psychology major so I actually am applying my knowledge from school to make sure I can as accurately fuck up Noct as possible! I really don't know how this story is going to end. My end goal was just to turn noctis into a crystal. But I think I have a plan for the next chapter. 
> 
> FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO LOVE IGNOCT READY YOUR HORSES.
> 
> I guess you'll just have to wait and see ;)


	26. Dream

_He’s awake._

The world was moving in slow motion, the sound a blur of nonexistence as the chamberlain stood like a lost leaf swirling in foaming rapids. Cor and Clarus were moving around like the Astrals themselves propelled them forward. Chairs were moved out of the way, crowns guards were sent to collect supplies, doctors were ushered in, nurses fluttering around like flitty moths. And yet, he couldn’t see any of it.

His breath was frozen in his chest, watching silently as Noctis craned his head up to stare at his father, adjusted his hips to further hide under the comfort of the growing pile of blankets.

Noctis was moving.

It seemed fake, like he was staring at some poorly animated scene in those action movies they used to binge, back when they had the time to binge movies, back when they had a reason.

Regis had gathered Noctis as close as possible, mouth pressed to his head, the soft twitching of his lips showing that he was whispering something to his child. His breath fogged slightly against the cool stone. His cloak was draped haphazardly over the two of them, as if he could use it to shield his son. Ignis couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen the king so tactile with the prince, but given the circumstances it didn’t surprise the young man.

Still, a sliver of jealousy wormed its way under his skin at a sickening rate. He didn’t have a right to be jealous. They were family and Ignis was merely his chamberlain. But staring at the chiseled features—perhaps that wasn’t the best way to describe him anymore—he felt his heart weakly shiver. His fingernails carved crescent cuts into his palms—well worn with worry. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, caught between going to his prince’s side and stepping back to allow their family their brief reunion.

From the corner of his vision he saw the doctors and nurses itching to assist their liege and part of him hated them. They were intruders on a personal moment, yet they weren’t even doing their job! Why weren’t they helping? Why weren’t they leaving!? Ignis’s mind was caught as more and more of these thoughts threatened to suffocate him.

He glanced back at Regis, who was gently tugging on Noctis’ fatigues. A uniform made specifically for the young prince—for "his adventures" as Regis so lovingly stated. Noctis looked a little more comfortable in the clothing, but it was nearly impossible to read his expression like this. His eyes continued beyond the uncomfortable prince where he was squirming in the bed. He wanted to be close to his father, but seemed afraid at the same time to allow the man to touch him. Ignis loathed thinking what would make the prince act in such a manner. 

Gladio was inching closer, crouching down next to the bed until Noctis quietly met his eyes.

His smile was blinding, made Ignis take a shaky step back, hand catching his heart as if to still the shaky beating beneath his button-down shirt. Noctis was reaching out trembling fingers until they locked with Gladio’s and suddenly the shield was wrapping those terrified fingers in his own.

“Kid…” Gladio choked out, bringing his forehead down to meet their joined hands. He didn’t know how to speak anymore. All the words he’d planned vanished on the tip of his tongue, but his prince was back.

“Y-you outdid me…” He laughed, his deep chuckle morphing into tears as the man disintegrated in front of the people he cared for most. He brought his bleary eyes up to see the cute tilt of his charge’s head, making him laugh even harder. “I thought… my tattoo was gonna steal the show, and then you decide to become a crystal. H-how am I supposed to pick up ladies now, eh?” He leant forward, allowing their foreheads to meet, his shoulders melting as he heard this beautiful laugh filter through Noctis’s lips. He was grinning, something familiar.

“I _am_ royalty.” Noctis reminded his shield, not moving his forehead from Gladio’s. “I’m supposed to get the girl. Th-that's how the stories go.” Gladio nodded instantly, unable to move away from the man he’d vowed his life to. He’d agree with just about anything as long as it meant Noctis never left his side again.

“That’s right kid.” His voice was raspy, thick with tears as he struggled to speak through the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. “I…”

“G-Gladio…” Noctis broke down, barely having time to react as the shield pulled him up and into his arms like he weighed nothing. He could feel the holes wear the spears had been, he could feel the collar that weighed down Noctis’ throat, and the shattered remnants of his arm. But it didn’t matter. Noctis clung to him like the world was ending and Gladio did the same. He would never let someone hurt his prince—his brother—again.

He always cared for the kid, but it was only with his disappearance that the prince’s absence had been felt most acutely. Like wielding his broadsword with only one hand. Now, it felt like a piece of his soul had been returned. Noctis had survived. They could only imagine the hell he’d been throat, but Shiva’s tits, he’d held on long enough to return to Lucis.

Gladio vaguely knew that Regis was anxious without Noctis, but he couldn’t bring himself to release the prince until he felt his own father’s hand on his shoulder. Clarus looked down and his eyes crinkled as he gently rubbed Noctis’s head.

“Welcome back.” He murmured, hand firm and solid. He wasn’t one to coddle anyone—except maybe his daughter—but now he felt no discomfort with treating the prince like a child. He needed love. He needed comfort. He could sense the prince’s apprehension, there was something in his eyes that still looked dazed even as he stared around the room like he wasn’t quite there. He captured those wandering eyes, trying to ooze sincerity in his words. “Prince Noctis, we will never leave your side again. I vow this on my life.” The prince’s eyes flickered to Gladio and the shield was quick to jump in.

“I won’t be weak again. Noctis I will make sure you’re safe. I will… I swear… I-I…. Ifrit's ass. Noct…”

“Don’t leave me alone.” He whispered so softly that it sounded like the wind would take his words away. Gladio’s heart broke and mourned for whatever the prince had lost, and his arms only constricted tighter.

“You’re gonna see enough of me to make you regret those words.” He teased softly, before gingerly returning the prince to his father’s arms. It was like passing an infant. Noctis instantly curled against Regis, allowing the king to pull up the sheets and blankets. He spared a smile for Clarus and his son. Grateful for their devotion. For their love and support. Noctis was looking tired and that suited Regis just fine. If all Noctis wanted to do for the rest of his life was sleep and play video games then Regis would see to it.

Damn the fates, he would never see his son taken again.

* * *

It was a few hours before the king allowed anyone else near Noctis.

Cor sat by the side of the bed, hand reached out to hold Noctis’s while the prince dozed fitfully. He smiled when sapphire eyes flickered open, rubbing circles into the back of Noctis’ hand, quieting the prince when he tried to speak.

“We never stopped looking.” He whispered in that low voice of his that Noctis recalled from his childhood. Remembered from stories of bravery and tales of monsters. Noctis didn’t need to open his eyes to know that voice and know that he’s safe.

“… Cor…?”

“Yes, your highness?”

“… p…prom..”

“I’m too old for you, Noctis.” There was a hint of a smile in his voice that even Regis snorted at. He kicked his friend with his foot, reveling in the joyful environment. Noctis rolled his eyes at the man, trying to stick his tongue out. Cor watched the action, keeping his soft smile in place even though when Noctis opened his mouth there was no tongue. His throat ended at the back. He was a statue. For a moment he had forgotten that Noctis wasn’t okay. That he may never be okay again. He tightened his grip on the prince’s hand.

“Tell… Prompto… ‘I lived, bitch.’”

“Language.” Regis scolded softly, chuckling at the mirth in his son’s voice. Cor smiled softly and bobbed his head.

“I’ll relay the message. He may try and join us once he learns of your return. He was very involved in the search for you.” He warned but that seemed to make Noctis happier.

“G-Good… I n-need him here.” Cor nodded, squeezing his hand once more.

“Of course. May I go tell him then?” He wanted permission. He wouldn’t leave until Noctis was ready. He wouldn’t do anything without Noctis’s express permission. The prince seemed confused for a second, then nodded, settling back against Regis as Cor rose. He stopped at the door, seeing the doctors on the other side who were anxiously awaiting their call to action.

“Regis. Let the doctors do their job.”

“Have I fired you today, Cor?”

“No, sire.”

“Hm. I must be losing my edge then. You’re fired.”

“Very well, you don’t want some ebony then?” Regis nearly launched Noctis up as he protested, begging Cor for coffee while Noctis snuggled against a rather large Moogle plush that Clarus had retrieved from an incredibly relieved Iris. It was warm in the room. Gladio had lost the battle with sleep and was passed out in an armchair that some of the crowns guard had carried in. Clarus hadn’t moved from his position but he knew that his son needed the rest.

They all did.

But as long as Regis was awake, so would Clarus. For the time being, Gladio could rest alongside his prince.

It was only Ignis who still stood, shifting from foot to foot with nerves. Unlike Gladio who had plowed his way forward to greet the newly awakened prince, Ignis seemed frozen. He kept opening his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Noctis, with his dazed eyes and distant expression, never noticed his beloved advisor. Regis shifted slightly now, sitting Noctis up with a sigh and a distant shout that Cor would be executed for treason. He didn’t want to put Noctis through any more suffering than was necessary but he’d delayed the medical professionals long enough.

“Okay, star. You’re okay.” He swore, keeping Noctis against his chest. He nodded to the doctors, allowing them to enter slowly and cautiously.

Noctis frowned, seemed confused by the movement.

He looked up and saw the doctors.

His vision narrowed down to nothing.

There was a hitch in his breath, but Ignis could see it. The moment when reality disappeared. He lunged across the room, pushing the doctor to the floor just as a sword shot itself into the wall where the doctor had been standing.

The doctor was thanking Ignis but his voice had that same echo-like quality that made it impossible to understand. He wasn’t important. Ignis stood up slowly, staring at where the prince was screaming pushing at his father like he was nothing but a stranger. The armiger spun around him, but the king summoned his own to quickly counter the straining weapons. His prince wasn’t there. He was lost. He walked up to Noctis, because he knew how to handle this. Noctis was scared and Ignis always made him feel better. That was supposed to be the truth.

“Noctis. Calm down.” Eyes found Ignis, and for the first time the prince saw his advisor. He could hear his throat tighten, see diamonds gathering to trickle from his eyes. Ignis smiled gently, taking another step forward when a spear appeared beneath his throat. There was something new in his eyes. Resignation. Despair. Ignis may as have been Ardyn for the reception he received.

“Y-you…” He rasped, his armiger beginning to glow red—magic tainted by remnants of the scourge. His eyes were trembling as his fingers twisted into the fabric. “I thought you m-made yourself… v-very clear…” He whispered, the armiger dispersing for a moment as if the energy of it was too much for him, his collar glowing suspiciously red as he buried himself into Regis’ side. The king looked confused, arms holding him up gently.

“Ignis?” Regis questioned, blinking when he felt Noctis lunge forward, as if to hurt the man who loved him. Clarus and Regis wound arms around the weakened royal to keep him in the bed—but only just barely.

“GET OUT! GET THE HELL OUT!!!” Noctis roared as if the infernian had possessed him, shocking and shattering the advisor’s heart.

_Get out? What have I done to receive such ire? Noctis…?_

“Noct… it’s me.” He tried once more, voice shaking because this had to be a lie, a joke. This had to be some kind of brainwashing from that frilled, pompous man. It clicked all to quickly. The man who had disguised Noctis as Luna, why wouldn’t he take away Noctis’ hope? Why wouldn’t he ruin the memories that they both held precious? “Noctis... I promise you, whatever you think I said, it’s a lie.” He held up his hands, when every muscle in his body screamed at him to hug him and kiss away those diamond tears. He was a foot away, standing next to the bed before his knees gave out and he was on his knees, reaching out helplessly for a lifeline. He didn’t know what to say, what to do. The hatred was burning in his eyes and Ignis didn’t have the words in his expansive vocabulary to dose those flames.

“I…I’m still… worthless…” Noctis whispered and nothing could stop the poised man from lunging into the bed and hugging his prince, holding him tightly as his arms shook.

“Nothing in this world could be more false than that, Noct.” He tried to steady his voice but nothing worked so he plowed forward, cradling Noctis’ cheeks to stare into his eyes. “Noctis, I’m so sorry… I’m so…” He voice hitched so he simply pressed his prince back against him. He flinched when he felt cold arms wrapping around his arms. “I love you.” He whispered desperately, feeling his shaky tears course down his cheeks. He felt the chest against him quake, then broken sobs ripped out of him. Ignis just held him tighter, crying as well. “Noctis…”

“I… don’t know if this is real…” He whispered, just loud enough to freeze the entire room. “I… I want it to be real. P-please…” His eyes looked up, shattered and broken by who knew what.

“I can’t take another dream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay... I've been dealing with some really awful personal stuff in my life and I've barely had the energy to go to school, much less write this. I'm feeling a little bit better today, and honestly the scene between Gladio and Noctis helped a lot. 
> 
> I know I said to get ready for Ignoct, but let me be clear. I love the polyship roadtrip. Everyone is gay for Noctis. End of story. 
> 
> But yeah... I really hope you guys like this chapter because I put a lot of myself into it. Your comments mean the world and seriously help me cheer up. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support  
> \- Shinya Argentum -


	27. - HIATUS -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HIATUS NOTICE

Alright guys! I may be taking a little hiatus on this story! 

I got really inspired to publish one of my favorite concepts: MERNOCT! So I am going to working a lot on the Son of Leviathan (https://archiveofourown.org/works/18263591/chapters/43218356) which you can find here! I can't thank y'all enough for all your support! I promise I am not abandoning this story forever, I just need to figure out how in the heck to heal noctis and where to go forward ^^; I am at a little roadblock and need to figure out what to do next.

Love you all so so much!   
\- Shinya Argentum -


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